


A Little Extra Attention

by argolas



Series: The Adventures of the Grey Company [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftercare, Bratting, Corporal Punishment, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discipline, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Legolas gets spanked by Aragorn, M/M, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Spanking, Pet Names, Punishment, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Spanking, They're all travelling with the Grey Company too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argolas/pseuds/argolas
Summary: Aragorn’s lifestyle of wandering the wild with his Rangers as the Chieftain of the Grey Company is one that he’s rather fond of, especially since he has his beloved Legolas by his side. But sometimes, Legolas just needs a little more extra attention than usual. And if Legolas needs it, then Aragorn will give it to him.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf, Halbarad/Original Male Characters
Series: The Adventures of the Grey Company [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019466
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! first of all, welcome! this is the first of many stories that i'm planning. i hope you enjoy them :) a huge, HUGE shoutout to my amazing [beta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remisfriend26/pseuds/Remisfriend26), cheerleader, and close friend for sticking by me throughout this! 
> 
> second, **this story contains spanking in the form of loving discipline.** if that's not your thing, i politely request that you back out of reading.
> 
> feel free to let me know what you thought and give me ideas/requests! :)

All was peaceful on this cold night.

Aragorn let the end of his pipe play on his tongue before he exhaled, watching as the smoke floated up into the air before disappearing, becoming a part of the sky. The stars glittered brightly above him and there was nothing that indicated something amiss. The fire that they had got going a few moments ago was now crackling; gentle, soothing noises that reminded Aragorn just how lucky he was to be here.

Here, surrounded by the soft background noises of his beloved Rangers, his group of thirty, residing safely in their current campsite. Aragorn watched as the men began to separate into small groups, much the same as they did every night, dark grey cloaks wrapped tightly around themselves to keep the chill from their bones. Some kept their hoods cast over their head, but most did not. They all knew they were safe here, in each other’s company. There was no need to cover their faces.

They had travelled together for a long time, long before Aragorn himself joined them, under the authority of Halbarad. For the longest time, Aragorn had secretly worried that there would be a wall between him and his men. And yet, they had accepted him right away, looking at him with glimmering eyes that showed the immense love and affection they felt for their new Chieftain already, never showing any doubt in him or his worth. 

Aragorn pulled his cloak closer to his body. They were incredibly warm and light, these cloaks, he mused. Elven cloaks. The best of the best. His ada had gifted him with one before he set off with his men, a parting gift for his mortal son, though surely they would meet again, and it was the very same one that he wore at the moment. 

Aragorn continued to watch and observe. He enjoyed doing so; it provided him with some solace and peace, knowing that they were all safe under his watchful gaze. He puffed his pipe again and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. It was _nice_ to see for himself that he was not alone, not left to flounder in his fate, or to wander the wild and drift off to sleep accompanied by nothing but the quiet chirps of crickets and bugs. Not that he had struggled greatly, per say, but… growing up in a household of elves, all of whom constantly showered affection and praise upon him, had grown familiar. The first time Aragorn set off on his own, he had, he was ashamed to confess, regretted it. He’d wanted nothing more than to turn back around, head back to Imladris, head back to _home_ and _acceptance_ and _family._

But he couldn’t. He had not let himself. For he was Isildur’s heir, and that title carried no weight if he could not handle something as simple and trivial as _loneliness._ Of course, Legolas had disagreed when Aragorn first confessed this to him.

Ah, dear Legolas…

His smile grew bigger. Legolas, his old, trusted friend, his beloved elf, _his_ Legolas. How he loved him so. And as if on cue… 

“And what are you smiling so much for?” 

Aragorn pulled the pipe out of his mouth and now grinned unashamedly at the beautiful, golden-haired elf who’d just plopped down beside him. They locked gazes and it took Aragorn a few moments to find his words. “Is it such a misdeed to smile at this hour, Sir?”

Now it was Legolas’ turn to sniff a smile. “I suppose not,” he replied, pressing his leg against Aragorn’s, the warmth of the gesture making him blush and grin like a little boy. “I do quite like your smile. It is very pretty, Estel.”

Aragorn almost laughed in response. Because here was an elf, sitting next to him, looking as gorgeous as always, complimenting _him!_ Him, on _his_ smile! Such folly. “Why, thank you, Sir. I suppose yours is quite adequate to see as well,” he responded with a laugh. 

Legolas fondly rolled his eyes. “ _Ai_ , Estel! Ever so eager with your cheek.”

Not bothering to argue with his words, Aragorn just good-naturedly bumped his knee against Legolas’. Legolas would simply disagree with his retort and insist on keeping his opinion. Just like how he’d disagreed a long, _long_ time ago about his beliefs of the ‘right way’ for Isildur’s heir to act.

Legolas had been the one to free him from that nightmare. Oh, he’d done so in quite a special way, one that Aragorn was familiar with, but had never received from this particular elf before. He let his pipe rest in his mouth again, letting his thoughts— _good_ thoughts, though he hadn’t thought of what had happened as such a good thing at the time, considering his sore backside—consume him.

_“Legolas, what are you doing?”_

_“Preparing my seat.”_

_“On… on a rock?”_

_“Aye, Estel. For it is time we took care of those nasty nightmares in your head, once and for all. They are not true, and yet you allow them to torment you so. I shall help with that. Now, come.”_ And he’d crooked a finger at Aragorn.

_“Ai! Legolas, you cannot mean—”_

_“I do.”_

_“But…”_

_“But?”_

_“You have never… you haven’t… I didn’t…”_

Legolas’ eyebrows had shot up at Aragorn’s feeble argument. _“I have never… what?”_

_“You’ve never… s-spanked me before.”_

_“Spanked you?”_

_“Aye.”_

Legolas had gazed at him for a while, his blue eyes glinting in the light. Then, he’d nodded. _“Aye, you are right. Indeed I haven't. But there is always a first time, is there not, meleth nîn?”_

He was right: there was. Aragorn still remembered the first time Elrond pulled little Estel over his lap to teach him the importance of attending Erestor’s academic lessons when he’d run off to practice his weaponry skills in the forest instead. But that was his ada _._ Legolas… Legolas was _different._

Aragorn had been flustered, poorly defending himself from his impending doom. Legolas allowed him to dig himself a hole deeper and deeper until he’d finally had enough.

 _“Enough, Sir. Come.”_ And he’d crooked his wretched finger again. When Aragorn still didn't move, he raised his brow again. _“If you truly cannot handle this, Estel, I shall accept. But we both know that this will continue to agonize you. I wish to relieve that pain for you.”_ A small pause, then: _“Do you trust me?”_

Aragorn hadn’t even needed to hesitate in answering that question. Thus, his fate had been sealed. 

Afterwards, he’d felt safe. Safe and secure, cuddling with Legolas, just the two of them, surrounded by the gentle crooning noises of nature. And Aragorn had been grateful, relieved that Legolas had seen past the mask he’d been wearing, had realized that he was not as fine as he claimed to be, but rather, wallowing in self-pity and misery. And those feelings had vanished after Legolas attended to him. 

Not that it made his backside hurt any less the next day.

A loud bit of laughter from the small group of Rangers on his right made him jump, snapping him out of his daydreams. Aragorn sheepishly glanced at Legolas, who was watching him, a pretty smile playing on his pretty lips, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the ends. “You are blushing, Aragorn,” he commented lightly. 

“I am not.”

“Aye, Sir, you are. There is a rosy tinge to your cheeks. Very pretty. Although, I must say… most of the time, it’s a different pair of cheeks that turn so beautifully red.”

And of course, Aragorn blushed even more. Legolas laughed and Aragorn rolled his eyes fondly. “You dirty elf.”

“Who’s a dirty elf?” 

A hand gently pulled at Aragorn’s hair, and then at Legolas’ before the perpetrator plopped down next to Aragorn. And there sat Osben, his wavy brown locks falling in front of his mischievous hazel eyes, grin big and infectious enough to make both Aragorn and Legolas smile despite their trussed up hair. 

Osben was the youngest of their group, just three years younger than Aragorn, which meant that he was always ever so eager to prove himself to everyone, to show that he was a fine warrior and a Dúnedain, a worthy Ranger of the North and a member of the Grey Company. He had idolized Aragorn from the first time Aragorn entered camp, as had all the other Rangers. 

“Who’s a dirty elf?” Osben repeated, face still etched with mischief. Never a good sign for Osben; it landed him in quite a bit of trouble. Not that it ever seemed to deter him from continuing on with his antics 

Aragorn gently tousled his hair, the same way Elladan and Elrohir had so often done with him. Perhaps it was an action that one did for those they viewed as their little brother. “None of your business, bratling.” He huffed a laugh. 

“Oh, but it is!” Osben teased gleefully. He clearly was having far too much fun. “For there is only one elfling here in our company, and he is most certainly a filthy, _naughty_ elf.” He glanced at Legolas slyly. “‘tis obvious why you behave so well for our Chieftain, Sir. You cannot bear the thought of losing precious time at night with him by getting into trouble instead. ‘tis a shame; none of us get any rest with the noise you two make ‘neath your covers.”

Aragorn smirked and glanced at Legolas, who was now red in the face, clearly having caught on to Osben’s meaning. “Off with you, Sir!” He gently but firmly shoved the youngest away, reckoning that if Osben teased any longer, Legolas would quite surely retaliate with his own words. Though they might not hurt Osben’s feelings, they most certainly would have an effect on him, and, well… Aragorn could see that Osben did not need any further encouragement in pursuing mischief. It was a wonder he hadn’t been reined back in yet.

When Aragorn gave him another push, Osben obliged, knowing that Legolas could only take so much teasing on such matters. Legolas was a private elf; he did not enjoy speaking on certain topics—his _private_ relationship with Aragorn being one of them. Still, Osben must’ve been feeling rather brave, for as he left, he called over his shoulder, “Aye, Sir, you are a good boy indeed! And the best for our Captain!”

Aragorn’s shoulders shook with laughter for a few moments. Osben truly was something else. They had taken him under their wing far younger than they usually allowed; he had essentially been _raised_ in the company of Rangers. It was no surprise he was so comfortable with them— _too_ comfortable, in fact, judging by how easily he shed his clothes to change in front of them all with no shame whatsoever. It was strangely endearing, his cheek and forwardness. It was hard to remember his age with how carefree and childishly he behaved, though Aragorn knew he only acted that way because he had lost both parents at a young age. And his cheekiness most certainly did not take away his value. The Grey Company was lucky to have such a bright, young man amongst them.

Aragorn turned to look at Legolas to share his thoughts and was caught off guard to see the scowl on Legolas’ face. But half a second later, Legolas seemed to realize that Aragorn had turned to face him, for he fixed his features and his usual pretty, composed expression returned once more. 

Hm. Interesting.

Aragorn didn’t ask him what was wrong. He knew Legolas would come forth with all the nasty, dark whispers in his mind eventually, just as he did himself with Legolas—though whether it would be with words or actions, he did not yet know. It was like that, their relationship. They helped each other. They soothed the nightmares and the worries, pushing the other into exactly what he needed, taking care of each other. It had been quite a while since Aragorn had last needed to take such action for Legolas.

Perhaps it had been too long.

* * *

Legolas was seething.

Even when they went to their bedrolls and Aragorn took him into his arms he was still seething. He did not even know why. 

Nay, that was a lie. He did know. And he was upset that he knew. Sometimes complicated feelings were easier to deal with when he was not aware of their cause, for he knew Aragorn would know for him.

And yet, here he was, pressed back against Aragorn with the warm blanket tossed over them, sulking like a little elfling. For Osben’s words had struck too deep and niggled within him, and he had not been expecting it at all.

Aye, he knew the little Ranger had not meant any harm with his teasing words and cheeky remarks, but the truth was… Legolas _had_ been extraordinarily good lately. 

He knew that Aragorn was stressed with the increasing number of Orcs that seemed to be growing bolder each day. And Legolas? Well, Legolas was an elf, and an important one at that! He was a skilled archer, the Prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, stuff of legends. And yet here was Osben, taunting him about what exactly he was— _a good boy!_ —and how exactly he was acting.

Legolas, a good boy? As though he were some pet to admire and fuss over? Nay, that would not do at all. Perhaps all the other Rangers viewed him like that. Had he not been doing enough lately? He had to admit, he’d spent most of his time recently trailing after Aragorn, trying to cheer him up and take away some of his stress with every tactic he could think of. Was he starting to act like some sort of a _lapdog?_ Oh, for Valar’s sake… he shuddered at the prospect.

And so his mind began to run, cranking out all the possibilities that could show just how _not good_ he was. He was not there with the Grey Company to solely entertain by singing and telling Elvish stories. He was there because he was a _warrior,_ because Aragorn himself had said he more than deserved the honour of travelling with the Grey Company. 

And because he loved Aragorn.

Aragorn, and all thirty of his men, as tiresome they may be with their requests for a song every time they got a fire going.

And because he loved Aragorn, he was going to… he was going to…

He was going to make him proud.

Aye. Now _that_ sounded like a good plan. He ignored the small voice that whispered that that meant he was still being _good,_ a good boy, but… it was different. He would not dare to do something reckless—or rather, anything that _Aragorn_ deemed reckless—not without cause. 

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Legolas couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his lips. Aye, it was true that he did not have a cause; not yet. But he would, soon. Tomorrow, he would go scouting with a few Rangers, and they would find what he already knew they would find: packs of Orcs, running through the fields without fear, baring their nasty, rotten teeth and growling at each other. Growing more fearless each day, they drew closer to the borders of their usual limits. Aragorn had been planning out different strategies to wipe them completely clear by consulting Halbarad and a few other older Rangers. 

Legolas couldn’t hide the grin on his face now. He knew Aragorn would see it, but he reckoned that his Ranger would simply be pleased that he was no longer sulking up a storm for an unknown reason. Aye, this plan would be one of his best yet. When he was done with those foul creatures, Aragorn would no longer need to torment himself on how their group of thirty men plus an elf, all of whom he loved, would face an enormous pack of Orcs, bigger than they’d ever faced before, without suffering any losses. 

But… oh.

He had a hole in his plan.

E’en if tomorrow’s patrol saw what Legolas knew they would find, he would need to get Aragorn’s permission to attack the Orcs. And that would prove to be… quite difficult, to say the least. He frowned. No matter; he would have to just convince him. Or… or just go off without his permission. But he would ask first. Then, if Aragorn proved to be unwise, he would just slip away, as unseen and unheard as elves were, and put his plan into effect. 

There was an odd feeling stirring in his stomach, though. A feeling of… no. He didn’t want to think about it. He sighed, his sulky mood returning once again. 

Legolas heard Aragorn smile and pressed closer to him, letting the man wrap his arms around him, tangling him into their usual position when they went to sleep—which, by that, he meant _Aragorn_ went to sleep. Legolas simply rested, for he was an elf, and elves did not need as much sleep as mortal beings did.

“Your mind is running,” Aragorn commented quietly. 

Legolas gave no response. Speaking would give away how he was feeling and what he was thinking, and Aragorn would be all too aware of something amiss. He did not enjoy the thought of that. Didn’t like that Estel would be able to read his mind from a simple response, as did all the wretched Dúnedain with their wretched abilities.

“What troubles you, Legolas?” 

Ah. A different tactic, then. A far more direct one. One that Legolas couldn’t avoid by staying silent without giving away his feelings, but also not one that he could avoid by responding. And judging by Aragorn’s sniffed smile, he knew exactly what he’d done, maneuvering Legolas into a corner so infuriatingly perfectly. 

Wretched Dúnedain instincts, indeed!

“Tis nothing, Estel. Go to sleep,” Legolas responded at last, not daring to turn around and face the man. “I can hear the exhaustion in your voice.”

“I am not exhausted.”

Legolas smirked. It was his turn now. “Aye, you are. Your voice gets that roughness to it when you need sleep. I know you too well. So sleep, lest I decide that sleeping in separate bedrolls would be better for you instead.”

Ohhh, he was good at this. Deflecting attention from himself and turning it onto Aragorn and his evident exhaustion and stress. 

Aragorn gave a small, “Hmph!” that made Legolas laugh, even in his sullen mood. 

“Shhh. Do not pout.”

“Aye, ‘tis your job to pout instead.”

Legolas instinctively opened his mouth to fire back a saucy retort, but then he stopped himself, just closing his mouth shut, though it took some effort. He made a small, “Hmph!” but otherwise remained quiet. 

Aragorn giggled. He _giggled._ Wretched man. “‘ben was right. You are a good boy indeed, Sir.” And with that, he drifted off, leaving Legolas to seethe throughout the night, all by himself.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion and worry plaguing Aragorn that kept him so deep in sleep, but Legolas managed to pull away from him early in the morning and head off into the forest.

Change of plans.

He was going to do a patrol by himself. If the Grey Company had an elf amongst them, the least their elf could do was allow them to rest while he watched over them. After gathering up his weapons, he headed straight where he’d planned to last night, but was rather disappointed to find that there was nothing. 

Nothing.

That did not make sense.

Just a few nights ago, Legolas had heard the Orcs growling that they would approach this side of the woods on the night of the full moon. He hadn’t considered that they were intelligent enough to change their minds, abominable creatures. 

He was sure that if he went exploring out into the fields, he would find them. But the sun was now steadily rising above the horizon, and if he didn’t head back soon, he would be missed. So, racing back through the forest, feeling the leaves crunch underneath his nimble feet, he made his way back to camp. 

Aragorn had awoken already, and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Legolas rushing back in. “And where did you head off to, Sir?” he demanded, standing up and getting into his _Legolas-you-better-have-a-good-reason-for-this_ stance.

Hastily, Legolas explained his plan, feeling his heart begin to thrum with excitement. As he explained, a few of the other Rangers drew close, seeming interested in what he was saying. But when he finished explaining, Aragorn stared at him with an aghast expression on his face, saying nothing in response. 

And so Legolas squirmed. 

How odd. It was most odd, squirming. Legolas did not squirm. And yet, here he was, standing in front of Aragorn, who was staring at him with a smoldering gaze, and his lieutenant, Halbarad, standing a few steps behind him. 

“Well?” Legolas demanded, trying to move things along. He did not want to squirm for any longer. “What say you, Estel?

“What do I say?” Aragorn frowned. “I do not believe it would be a wise decision, letting you go off on your own with no backup, Sir.”

“But I can handle it.” Legolas even had his weapons ready, all packed against his body. He could already sense his blood rushing, felt the tingling from head to toe that told him just how excited he was to get rid of the cause of Aragorn’s stresses. “You know I can.”

“Legolas—”

“I will not get hurt.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I promise.” 

“You cannot promise that.”

Legolas made a frustrated noise, unable to suppress it for any longer. Valar help him; he should’ve just gone off without warning. He most likely could’ve been back by now, all those creatures slayed. And that thought just fuelled him on and he was unable to hide the irritation in his tone when he spoke next. “‘Tis naught but a few orcs!”

“A few orcs—” Aragorn broke off and stared as though Legolas had grown another head. 

Legolas swallowed, suddenly hesitating. He recognized that look all too well. “Well—”

“No.”

“Aragorn—”

“ _No._ ”

“ _Ai!_ Estel, you are not listening to me!”

“I am listening to you quite well, Sir. And I say no.”

“But you know I can do it.” Legolas stepped in front of Aragorn, preventing him from walking off. He was acutely aware of Halbarad still unashamedly watching their interaction, puffing his pipe. “Like I said, ‘tis naught but—”

“A few orcs. Aye, I heard you.” Aragorn fixed a glare on Legolas. “And I. Say. No.” He held up a hand when Legolas opened his mouth to argue again, causing him to glare. “Because the truth is, Legolas, there is most certainly more than ‘a few orcs.’ In fact, ‘tis _too many_ orcs. It would be folly for you to go off on your own. I shall not risk your safety just so you can prove yourself.”

Prove himself! Legolas fumed. It was not so he could prove himself! It was not! He had no desire to show his abilities to anyone; he just _knew_ he would be able to handle it. How? He had done so before. When he still resided in Mirkwood, his father often sent him off on tasks, _alone,_ and Legolas had always succeeded. Aye, he came home tired and yearning to pass out in his bed, but he had not shed a single drop of his blood. 

And Aragorn knew this! It was not odd for the two of them to go scouting the wild, clearing off any evil that dared to linger. They had done so many times before. In fact, Legolas was often the one who cared for Aragorn after their fight. Aragorn was skilled in battle, but he was still what he could not help being—mortal. He was one of the Dúnedain, but he did not possess Legolas’ lightweight, elegant manner of flipping through the air and slaying several Orcs as though they were naught but a dormouse. 

So the fact that Estel— _his_ Estel—was implying that he would not manage on his own? _Ai!_ If there was anyone that Legolas indeed wanted to prove himself to, it was him! 

Besides, he wanted to remember the feeling of satisfaction as he swept all the Orcs off their feet, easily beheading them without so much as a flinch, and then stand there in the bloodstained field before sheathing his weapons. No, he _craved_ it. 

And Aragorn stood, watching Legolas closely while these thoughts rampaged through his mind. Scowling, Legolas quickly composed himself. He would not have his Ranger figuring out what he planned to do before he could even set it into action. 

“You will not leave the camp alone,” Aragorn said at last, breaking the silence between them. 

Legolas’ head jerked up in dismay. _What?_ Aragorn was treating him as though he were a mere elfling, telling him where he could and could not go! Even his ada did not treat him this way. It was most disgraceful. He huffed to express his dissatisfaction. 

“Am I understood, my sweet Legolas?” Aragorn prompted, stern eyes filled with warning. 

Legolas glowered, barely appeased even with the term of endearment. “Aye.”

Aragorn nodded, looking satisfied. “Perhaps you should find some things to do to keep yourself busy,” he suggested lightly, pulling out his pipe. “It shall help you behave.”

Legolas scowled. “I will behave. I do not need chores,” he shot back, turning on his heel to stomp dramatically away. It would make him feel better, even though he would truly be acting like a small elfling then. “And I do not need distractions.”

“Hm.” Aragorn frowned, then turned to Halbarad. Halbarad gazed steadily back. Then, he gave a small nod, and Aragorn returned it. Legolas watched all this, sulking. “I beg to differ, Sir. I believe Halbarad is in need of some aid. Would you be most kind to help him out?” 

Legolas was tempted to give in to his temper and respond, “Then beg.” But he’d done that once before, and it had not ended too well for his backside. So, he refrained. “Aye,” he muttered, adding under his breath, “Though I would prefer not to.” 

Aragorn turned to him so fast that Legolas couldn’t help but take a step back and exclaim, “I did not mean that!” And truly, he had not. He enjoyed spending time with Halbarad, knew that he was Aragorn’s trusted lieutenant, knew that Halbarad cared for him just as much as he cared for Aragorn. He could feel Halbarad’s steady, unflinching gaze fixed on him and he felt his face grow a bit warm in shame. Halbarad did not deserve to be the target of Legolas’ sour mood, and he _knew_ that. Turning to Halbarad, he murmured, “Apologies, Sir. I did not mean it, truly.” 

“‘Tis not worth worrying your pretty head about, Sir,” Halbarad responded lightly, puffing his pipe again one last time. “Forgiven.” He tucked it away, though a bit reluctantly, and then gently clasped a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “We shall go fetch some provisions. We are running low. Perhaps we could stock up for the food stores in our caves; the frost will come soon and we cannot afford losing the best of our resources.” He glanced at Aragorn, who nodded his approval of his plan. 

Legolas, on the other hand, barely heard him, too caught up in his thoughts, which went off into another vicious cycle of temptation. If they were going to be collecting provisions and supplies for their caves—their safe houses, that was—that meant they were going out of camp, and into the forest. And he and Halbarad would most likely be forced to separate, for a little while, if not more, in order to work efficiently. And that meant...

“Come, Sir. We shall return before sunset.” Halbarad began to stride away. 

Legolas nearly lept after Halbarad, but he forced himself to look composed and nonchalant as he hurried after him. 

“Legolas,” Aragorn called softly. 

Legolas stopped and looked at him, already knowing what he was going to say. 

“Behave yourself for Halbarad, would you?” There was a stern glimmer in Aragorn’s eye, and even a bit of anxiety that he tried and failed to hide. 

Legolas felt a wave of guilt wash over him at that, but he pushed it away. Estel was worrying too much about him. He would be grateful when Legolas took care of the Orcs, all by himself. “Aye, Sir, I shall behave.” 

Aragorn broke into a smile, one of his pretty ones where it reached his eyes and made his entire face glow in the boyish way that Legolas loved. 

And if anything, as Legolas trekked after Halbarad, that made him feel even guiltier. 

They took Osben with them for an extra pair of hands. Legolas had to bite back the groan that bubbled up in the back of his throat. It wasn’t that he disliked Osben; he was fond of him and cared for him. But at the moment, it just meant it was another pair of eyes he’d have to avoid when he made his escape. Osben was like an over-eager puppy, always running ahead to scout and then returning to announce that he’d seen absolutely nothing but trees. Every time. 

Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe Osben would keep Halbarad properly distracted, so that Legolas could slip away unseen. But the Fates weren’t on his side today, because Osben seemed extra clingy to him, chattering away as he tried to keep up with Legolas’ pace. 

“Your legs are too long, Sir,” the young Ranger complained as he bent down to gather some plants that they could salvage before the frost bit them rotten. “You walk too fast.”

“Perhaps you walk too slow,” Legolas responded, and that was the end of that conversation. He made sure to stay behind Halbarad, not out of sight but just enough so that the lieutenant would get a glimpse of long golden hair if he turned his head the slightest bit. Build up his trust, and then leave. Aye, that was what Legolas would do. 

But to his dismay, Halbarad stuck close to him, even having the audacity to stand ‘neath a tree when Legolas silently began to scale it. He scowled and expressed his irritation by dropping a handful of berries onto the ground, knowing it had hit his target—Halbarad’s head, that was—when he heard a small grunt. He smirked, then looked around. He knew he couldn’t afford to head back down from the tree with empty hands. Halbarad would not hesitate to inform Aragorn of his ‘unnecessary impertinence,’ as he would call it.

So, he began to gather handfuls of nuts and berries, then dropped back down, landing next to the big Ranger without a strand of hair out of place. 

“You took your time up there, Sir,” Halbarad commented, yanking out a pouch for Legolas to put them in. “I vow you enjoyed yourself too much.” 

Legolas huffed. “I did not,” he muttered petulantly. “You offend me, Sir.” 

“Do I?”

“Aye. With all your dreadful accusations.”

Halbarad stared at him. Then, he murmured, “I see. Well, then, apologies, Sir, for that was not my intention. I just simply could not help but notice your attitude as of late.”

Legolas stomped away, leaving Halbarard and Osben to follow him. 

“Why’re you so grumpy?” Osben asked as they trekked further, occasionally stooping down to scavenge for roots. They would only find ones to dry and eat here; the ones for healing were found on the other side of the woods. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

Legolas didn’t reply.

“You are.” Now Osbend sounded sulky. Legolas knew just how much the young Ranger couldn’t bear when others acted off; he had a keen eye for catching on to emotions and felt them as though they were his own. No doubt he was feeling as grumpy and upset as Legolas. And he expressed so through his next words. “I’ve been trying to help you feel better but you’ve been _mean_ all day. I don’t deserve this from you, Legolas.”

And, well, that was it. That was Legolas’ last bit of patience leaving him. Osben didn’t deserve this? Legolas thought otherwise. It was Osben’s words that had been causing a turmoil in his mind since last night, it was Osben who continued to pester him with silly questions, and it was Osben who was now looking rather teary-eyed and on the verge of shouting at Legolas. 

Legolas glared at him. “Go away, ‘ben,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood.”

“But—”

“Go. Away. ‘ere I make you.”

“Legolas—”

“Osben—”

“Gentlemen.”

They both stopped and turned to look at Halbarad, who’d been listening to their entire conversation while silently following them. He now looked rather unimpressed. “I am not here to watch over the two of you,” he informed them sternly, levelling a look at Legolas, and then at Osben. “We are out here to restock and prepare for the coming weather. So compose yourselves.”

“I did not start it,” Legolas dared to mutter. 

“Very well, Sir. I shall keep the two of you separated then.” Halbarad grabbed Legolas by the nape of his neck, making him yelp in surprise, and then dragged him back so that he was standing next to him. “Come along. ‘ben, lead the way.”

Osben threw one more upset, sullen look at Legolas, but obeyed and began to stride forward in long, determined steps. Legolas trailed after him with Halbarad by his side, gazing at the ground. They travelled in sulky silence for a while until Halbarad broke it with his next words. 

“Aragorn worries for you.”

Hm. The leaf-covered ground was suddenly extremely intriguing. Oh, look. A bug had bitten through that one. Perhaps it was—

“He fears you are hiding something. Something important.” Halbarard spoke quietly. “Why will you not tell him? Do you not think he has enough to worry about as it is, little elfling?”

And suddenly, Legolas felt guilty. Extremely guilty. His head jerked up and he met Halbarad’s grey eyes, filled with sympathy and compassion. He knew exactly how his words were affecting Legolas, along with his term of endearment—little elfling. Halbarad had been calling him that from the moment he’d begun to travel with the Grey Company, regardless of the fact that Legolas was much older than him by thousands and thousands of years. But it was not age that mattered; it was the care and affection behind the words that did. 

Halbarad stopped and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can talk to him,” he reminded Legolas. “He shall be there for you, just as you are always for him. You know this already.”

Legolas nodded jerkily, ashamed to find his vision suddenly blurring with tears. This was all too much. This was… he was… he was spiralling out of control. He had not felt this in years; he rarely felt so lost. And that scared him. 

“‘Tis alright, elfling,” Halbarad murmured, lightly squeezing his shoulder. “It’s okay to be sad. We cannot always be content, especially if we are the ones coaxing that big scariness inside to grow bigger and bigger.”

“I—” Legolas broke off, trying to speak over the lump in his throat. “I—‘tis not—that’s—” He stopped, unable to coherently express himself. 

But Halbarad seemed to understand. He nodded and smiled. “At ease. You are a good man, Sir,” he told Legolas. “Or rather, a good elf. You are ever so fond of reminding us of your Elvish blood, after all.” He gave a small chuckle. “You are good for Aragorn. I admire you for that.”

His tone was kind, too kind, more than Legolas could bear at the moment. He would rather prefer if the Ranger spoke to him in a harsh tone; at least then he could continue to be moody. But nay, Halbarad would never do that. And Halbarad needed to stop, ‘ere Legolas break down in the middle of the forest. His cheeks burned at the thought, even more so when he was reminded that Osben, sweet, gentle Ozzy, would be watching. 

“Sir, I—” He hastily wiped his eyes with his arm. “May I head back?”

Halbarad hesitated. He was clearly trying to decide whether it would be a wise decision to allow Legolas to return on his own—for they had not yet reached the cave—or command him to follow him. 

Legolas could practically hear the gears in his head turning. “Please,” he added. “I would… I would prefer some time alone. To gather my thoughts and compose myself.” He wasn’t lying. He would kill to just sit at the top of a tree and allow the crisp breeze to wash over him, to lean his head back and feel a steady pillar of oak, to imagine himself cradled in safety by the branches and leaves, taking him back to home and memory. 

Perhaps it was the earnest look in his eyes, or the genuine upset in his tone. Either way, Halbarad dutifully agreed, “Aye, Sir, very well,” then added more sternly, “Straight back, Legolas. Do not take any detours.”

Legolas nodded, and then without another word, he was off. He truly did not plan to do anything besides calm his mind. He could feel Halbarad watching him, and heard Osben trot up to the older Ranger and ask, “Where’s he goin’?” He tuned them out, not caring to listen any further to their conversation. He could already imagine how it would go:

_“He is returning to camp.”_

_“How come? What about us?”_

_“Soon. Come, Sir.”_

_“But Legolas is returning.”_

_“Legolas has matters to attend to. As do we. Do you expect us to toss out all that we’ve gathered? Nay, that would be a waste. So, come, little Ozzy.”_

_“Do not call me that.”_

_“Why not? I think it suits you well.”_

_“It’s … boyish. It sounds too young.”_

_“You_ are _young, Sir. And you like when I call you that. Now, for the last time: come.”_

Legolas sniffed a small smile at that. Oh, how he loved these Rangers. He sighed and stopped, gently leaning back against a tree. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling of the stiff tree against his skin wash over him.

The birds seemed overly active today. They sang to each other, flitting from branch to branch as they too prepared for winter. He exhaled again, then began to scale the tree. His thoughts were still running fast, too fast for his comfort, but he tried to distract himself. One foot forward, hoist himself up, the other forward, keep moving up, up, up…

And suddenly, he found himself at the top of the tree, having scaled it within mere seconds. Legolas inhaled sharply. He could see… everything. Well, not _everything,_ but he could see a lot. And that was good enough for him. He plonked down on the branch, not even flinching when it bobbed the slightest bit, and gazed at nothing in particular. 

Halbarad’s words had been right. So had Osben’s. He _was_ being unnecessarily grumpy—or, as Osben had put it, _mean._ He didn’t like that. Legolas was many things, but he was not mean. 

He just… needed something. Something more. He wanted to feel safe. He didn’t want to be reminded of his helplessness, trapped inside his mind, not anymore. He wanted… he wanted _Estel._ He wanted Aragorn to help him, to rid him of his foul thoughts, he wanted… he shuddered, closing his eyes. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Aye, that… felt better. Felt good. 

Legolas opened his eyes, then squinted, catching a flicker of movement in the distance. Like a swarm of bees. Or wasps. Or… _Orcs._

He didn’t hesitate to jump down and race the other direction, back up to where Halbarad and Osben were heading. He made sure to stay off the road, just racing through the trees and greenery, his mind racing and his heart thumping with excitement. This was his chance. He could show Aragorn now, he could make Aragorn proud of him for accomplishing what he thought Legolas would not be able to do—defeat a swarm of Orcs, an _immense_ amount of Orcs, all on his own. 

Legolas would be able to do it. He was the Prince of the Woodland Realm, son of King Thranduil, skilled and wise in combat and strategy, having learned from the best of the best. He could handle it. He was more than capable of— “Oof!” Legolas’ breath exploded from his chest as he crashed into something hard, something…

Something Osben.

“Leg’las!” Osben cried, then gave a muffled shriek when Legolas clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him behind some bushes. 

“Hush!” he demanded breathlessly. “Where is Halbarad?”

Osben licked his hand in response, and Legolas pulled a face before snatching his hand away. Osben grinned at him happily. “He is ahead, not too far off. Oh, Legolas, have you changed your mind? Are you coming with us to the—”

“No.” Legolas straightened his clothes, dusting himself off. “Do not tell Halbarad that you saw me.” He levelled a look at Osben that he knew rivalled Aragorn’s stern looks. “I am on a mission.”

Osben’s eyes lit up at that. “I’m joining!”

“Nay!” Legolas scowled at him, maintaining it even when Osben’s face fell, though it was a bit of a struggle. It was quite difficult to not feel bad when Osben’s hazel eyes lost their spark of excitement, turning dull instead. “You are not. Go back to Halbarad. Do not speak a word of this to him.” He gave him one last glare for good measure, and then set off, ignoring the squeak of protest he heard.

If Osben told Halbarad, Legolas was going to skin him.

With that in mind, he pushed onwards. He was able to make it to the swarm without trouble, moving silently and quickly. He felt a glimmer of satisfaction run down his spine; ohhh, how grand this was going to be! Aragorn should’ve known better than to treat him as though he were helpless, for if there was one race in Middle Earth that could move as silently as the Halflings they occasionally guarded, it was elves. 

The Orcs were snarling to themselves, sounding just as filthy as they looked. It sent another shudder down Legolas’ spine, though it wasn’t one of excitement this time. He hated Orcs. He despised them with a passion. Out of the many years he’d been alive, he had not yet allowed one to shed a drop of his blood yet, and they would not do so for a long, long time. They most definitely would not today, either. 

Legolas continued to scan the field intently. He let his fingers absentmindedly play over the end of his arrow, the feathers tickling his fingertips, as he planned his strategy. He would not have the upper hand if he dashed out and jumped into the middle of the swarm; there would be too many coming from every direction. Nor should he shoot from his current location; they would overrun him in mere seconds. He would needs get to a higher ground, where they would have to struggle to climb up. And as they tried, he would strike, lightning fast, with his arrows, and then with his knives. Aye, that seemed to be the best option he had. 

Legolas began to silently move back, heading around so that the Orcs wouldn’t charge into the forest and potentially find their tents. Instead, he made for the opposite side, clambering onto a large pile of boulders that had been so conveniently placed, like they were begging him to stand there and release his arrows with a crisp _zwing!_

It was a shame that he didn’t have Aragorn by his side—not to supervise him, of course. In fact, when they were out in the field, _he_ was usually the one to be watching over Aragorn while beheading a foul creature. Aragorn oft forgot that he was not as capable as his Elvish kin in combat. Men were clumsy and heavy, whilst elves moved quickly and efficiently, darting about. Men tired quickly, arms evidently aching as they heaved their weapons around, while elves could shoot off an arrow and throw a knife within a split second. So nay, he was not disappointed that Aragorn wasn’t there to ‘protect’ him. They simply made a good team. He had Aragorn’s back, and Aragorn had his. 

He could recall a time when he and Aragorn were travelling through the wild, ‘ere they committed to the Grey Company. They were also accompanied by Aragorn’s Elvish brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. Aye, that had been a lively time, filled with mischief, mayhem, and brotherly love. Legolas almost missed those times. Elladan and Elrohir had certainly done a fine job of keeping their mortal little brother in line, refusing to allow him to recklessly rush into danger. 

Once, the three Elves demanded Aragorn that he stay behind in the shrubs while they cleared off a troll. Trolls were dumb creatures, incapable of thinking quickly and nastily like an Orc or goblin could. But trolls were not so incompetent that they couldn’t recognize who was the easier target. And for this situation, Aragorn would, no doubt, be the troll’s victim. So, Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir refused to allow Estel, poor, little _mortal_ Estel, to join. 

The troll had certainly been a surprise smack dab in their pretty faces, for it was stronger and smarter than they’d initially thought. It actually managed to bat away a few of their arrows and yank out the knives they stuck in its toes whilst stubbornly refusing to roar, whether it be in pain or anger. The most efficient way to kill this large creature was to pierce its brain, or its mouth and down to its throat. And it simply refused to cooperate. 

Legolas had actually felt himself begin to grow _frustrated,_ and he was becoming less and less composed by the minute. Still, channeling his feelings into the blow, he drove a knife into a rather unpleasant spot for the troll—most painful indeed—which left the creature stunned and groaning. Then, while Legolas reached to nock an arrow into his bow, the troll swung clumsily and blindly, making contact with Legolas and sending him flying. He crashed into the rocks behind him, leaving him dazed and confused for a few moments.

However, his attention was brought immediately back to the situation when he heard Elrohir’s cry: _“NOOOOO!”_

Legolas scrambled to his feet and whipped around, spine prickling with dread, just in time to see Aragorn— _Ai!_ His beautiful, brave, _disobedient_ Estel!—rush into the open and lunge, stabbing the troll in… yet another painful area. 

Clearly the second blow was even more painful than the first, for the troll let out the loudest bellow that Legolas had ever heard and doubled over, head nearly facing the ground as it flailed in pain. Its cry left his ears ringing. Still feeling a bit stunned, he fumbled to reach back for an arrow, but— _fwing!_

The troll froze, swooned back and forth for three seconds, then collapsed to the ground face-first. And there stood Aragorn, Elladan’s bow clutched in hand, looking surprised that he’d actually done it, killed the troll, with an arrow through its brain. Then, his surprise turned into triumph, and he cried out, _“We did it!”_

His excitement had not lasted long.

Rather, it was replaced by a sore bottom, inflicted by Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas all passing him around their laps, tanning his backside cherry-red for putting himself into such danger. 

The twins and Legolas had always been comrades in mischief, near turning their adas’ hair grey, but when it came to their little Estel? That was a different story. Still, they’d most certainly gotten into endless bouts of trouble themselves, and it always ended with them over Thranduil and Elrond’s laps. _Ai!_ Once, when they’d gotten themselves into particularly big trouble, nearly ending up dead, Glorfindel himself, the mighty Balrog-slayer, had spanked them until they were weeping and pleading for him to stop! 

Aye, it’d been a chaotic time indeed. 

Legolas couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Then, he started. He was daydreaming. That would not do. He frowned and nearly scolded himself. He had to focus on the task at hand. Then he could go back to those good, happy thoughts. 

Turning his full attention back to the Orcs, he saw that they had moved farther away from him whilst he was lost in his thoughts like a dreamy little elfling. Muttering a foul curse to himself, he impulsively shouted, getting the creatures’ attentions. Shuddering when they turned their beady eyes to him, he called, “Come and get me!” and added a rather nasty Elvish word to goad them on.

They were more than happy to obey. 

Legolas shot off a few arrows, grunting with satisfaction when he saw each blow hit accurately, then he jumped off from his perch, consequences be damned. He drew out his knives and charged. 

And right at that exact moment, he heard a roar that sounded just like Elrohir’s during their fight with the troll. 

“Legolas! NO!”

Legolas stumbled and turned around, and there was Aragorn, rushing forward with his group of brave Rangers behind him. 

Legolas took the time to gape for a few moments. How had they—oh, no! This was not how his plan was supposed to go down! He stood rigidly, fixed to the spot, legs feeling like they couldn’t move an inch without falling.

Aragorn reached him first and grabbed him by his shoulder and hauled him backwards so that they were under the hook of his perch. “Legolas! Legolas—” And he broke off with a loud curse that was worse than the one Legolas had growled. “Are you hurt?” Aragorn demanded. “Answer me, Sir!” 

Legolas shook his head and gasped when Aragorn firmly shook him. _“Ai!_ Aragorn, I am alright!” He tried to pull away. 

Aragorn grabbed both shoulders now and eyed him all over from head to toe, as though he were trying to see if Legolas was lying to him. He bristled at that and snarled, “Estel, enough!” He craned his neck and saw the Rangers in combat with the Orcs, slaying them one by one. None were injured yet; he could not smell any blood besides the foul creatures’. “We must fight!” He managed to break away from Aragorn’s hold this time, ignoring his Ranger’s growl, and just leapt into the field.

Did Aragorn not understand? This was not the time to be fussing over him while the honourable Grey Company fought! Legolas had started this fight, and he was going to end it. Still, as he beheaded an orc, and then another, he fumed. This was certainly not the magnificent battle he’d envisioned.

He could sense Aragorn’s anger and upset; they were very much in tune with each other’s emotions. Most of the time, it was beneficial. Rarely, was it not. This was one of those rare times. It bothered him, even as he slashed and killed. He could not keep his mind off of it, and as a result, it was making him clumsy and careless. That made him even more irritated; he would not embarrass himself so! 

When all the Orcs had finally been killed, Legolas stood covered in grime and Orc blood, feeling rather filthy. He quickly scanned the field. All besides poor little Osben were relatively unscathed; the youngest had acquired an injury that was more than a mere cut or bruise—he had sprained an ankle by tripping over a fallen Orc in the midst of chaos, and his face was now red in embarrassment as Halbarad and Elion, another brave Ranger soul, fussed over him, helping him hobble over to a rock to sit down. Legolas could hear their conversation.

“I am fine!”

“You are hurt.” 

Elion helpfully added on to Halbarad’s words: “Hush.”

“Nay! I will not hush!” Osben fumed. “‘Tis most unfair!”

“There is nothing unfair except for the fact that you will not allow me to take off your shoe, Sir! Now, hush, stay still, and allow us to tend to you!”

Osben grumbled, but there were no further complaints. 

Legolas couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. Osben was endearingly petulant when he acquired an injury; for some unknown reason, he clearly felt that it was weak to show pain. Even when he’d once cracked two ribs, he had not uttered a single noise, just limping silently with the occasional gasp until Elion had confronted him and demanded to know what was bothering him.

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Aye. I am fine.”_

_“You are not fine. You just gasped. I heard it, Sir.”_

_“You did not. You are hearing things, ‘lion.”_

_“The fact that you just called me ‘lion tells me that there is something wrong. I shall tell Aragorn to stop moving; then I will take a look at you and see what you are hiding._

_“No!”_

_“My lord Aragorn—”_

_“NO! ‘LION, I AM FINE!”_

_“Then allow me and Halbarad to take a look at you. Sit. Down. And tell us the problem.”_

Osben had muttered something inaudibly.

_“Pardon?”_

_“I… I may have been feeling some… discomfort.”_

_“Discomfort? Where?”_ Halbarad immediately popped up next to the pair.

_“In my ribs.”_

_“And I presume you had a good reason for keeping this hidden, little boy?”_

_“Uhhh.”_

_“Osben.”_

Needless to say, after his ribs healed, Osben had gotten a sound spanking from both Halbarad and Elion. Their bond had been incredibly strong ever since then. From then on, whenever Osben partook in some mischief, he would face his two loved Rangers, who were always ready to step in as his disciplinarians. 

Legolas gasped when a hand landed on his shoulder and wrenched him around.

Before him stood Aragorn, looking mightily unimpressed and extremely displeased.

Legolas gulped. 

And there was _his_ disciplinarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! the next chapter will be up in a week :) 
> 
> you can contact me/start a friendship at:
> 
> email: argolas.x@gmail.com  
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> fanfiction.net: [argolas-x](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/14455301/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this next chapter :)

He looked a sight, Aragorn mused as he silently stood still and glowered. Usually after a battle, Legolas looked as composed as ever, only a few strands of hair out of place, but this time? This time was different. He was rather disheveled, covered in dirt and blood—not his own, Aragorn noted with a rush of relief—and a crude, sulky expression on his face. _Ai!_ The audacity of his elf!

Aragorn almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Here was Legolas, his bratling elf, under his stern gaze after having trekked off by himself to approach the very same group of Orcs Aragorn had ordered him _not_ to. 

And Legolas clearly knew that, for ‘neath all the dirt and blood, his blue eyes glimmered with what seemed to be a mixture of guilt and defiance and longing. 

Ohhh, Aragorn knew what he was longing for. He had been in Legolas’ position an uncountable number of times by now. There was always, _always_ a reason for acting out. And now Legolas wanted—expected—him to get to the bottom of it for him, because he could not do it for himself. Aragorn would. If Legolas vocalized the thoughts that Aragorn already knew was running through his head, he would even give him a full, detailed explanation of his plan. 

But of course, Legolas would not say such words. Nay, to do so brought an overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment upon him. It was likely that e’en over his lap with his bottom turning a cherry-red shade, it would take some… convincing to make him confess such matters. 

But no matter. Aragorn would attend.

Neither one of them spoke a word, not yet. It was intentional. It was routine. To fall out of that routine would be alarming. So, Aragorn took the time to study Legolas’ expression once again, noting how it changed the longer the silence went on. 

Surprised. Petulant. Unsure. And—oh, there it was again. Guilty. 

Good. Legolas should very much be feeling guilty indeed. Aragorn still remembered the flash of fear he’d felt when Halbarad and Osben returned with no sight of his beloved elf. 

Aragorn had rushed right up to them and demanded, _“Where is he?”_

Halbarad gave him a slow, confused blink. Then, realization dawned upon his handsome, ragged face and he spun on his heel to examine the camp. There was no sight of Legolas, not a single strand of his golden hair. With a mighty scowl growing on his face, he’d turned back to Aragorn and growled deep in his throat. _“I told that bratling elf to return here immediately. I vow he did not.”_

 _“Aye, sir, indeed he did not,”_ Aragorn agreed grimly. _“I presume he had valid cause to be trekking through the forest by himself?”_ He knew Halbarad would have a good reason; his lieutenant would not defy his explicit orders without one. 

_“There was an… incident. I trusted he was not lying to me when he asked for some time alone. His pretty eyes were filled with real tears, too real to be a part of a lie. Neither ‘ben nor I saw him after that.”_ Halbarad flashed a quick glance at Osben, who was staring at the ground, looking lost in thought—or rather, looking like he was _trying_ to be. 

There’d been a small silence. Aragorn exchanged a look with Halbarad, who gave a small, barely noticeable nod. Their youngest Ranger knew something. 

Osben was a terrible liar. The worst Aragorn had ever seen, and that included himself! His sparkling hazel eyes simply dampened into a dull brown, and he positively deflated when he was hiding something. And the most noticeable symptom of all: he never, _ever_ dared to meet Halbarad’s or Elion’s eyes. 

So of course, Halbarad did what was only right in this case. He reached out, gripped poor, sweet little Osben’s chin with his thumb and index finger, and tipped his flushed face up. _“Osben,”_ Halbarad said in a tone that made even Aragorn shiver, _“Perhaps there is something you wish to share with us.”_

And _ai!_ Osben had the audacity to keep up with his lie! A brave—and foolish—choice. _“No, Sir. Nothing.”_

_“Osben.”_

_“Aye, Sir.”_

_“Are you sure you’re telling the truth?”_

_“Mhm.”_

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_“Yes. I-I am. Mhm.”_

_“Hm.”_ Halbarad turned to Aragorn. _“Most interesting, my lord. Don’t you agree?”_

Aragorn recognized that dangerous glint in Halbarad’s eye. It seemed Legolas would not be the only one to end up with a sore bottom by the end of the day. _“Aye, Sir. Interesting indeed.”_

 _“W-What’s interesting?”_ Osben squeaked, eyes darting between them. 

Halbarad grinned, shark-like. _“You.”_ Then, he’d yanked Osben close, gripping him firmly under an arm, and landed a few hard swats. 

Osben _bellowed. “Sir! OW! H-Halbarad! Not—not here! Oh, for Valar’s sake—”_

The combination of the embarrassment of being swatted like a little boy in front of the Company and the guilt he was inevitably feeling ensured that Osben did not take long to blather out the truth, sputtering that he’d met Legolas hiking through the woods. 

Halbarad released him and muttered, _“We are not finished yet, Ozzy.”_

Osben sniffled. 

They set off on their Legolas hunt after that. 

The entire time they were tracking him, Aragorn found his mind full of thoughts. Aye, he knew that Legolas was more than capable of defending himself if need be; he was probably the most capable out of them all with his elvish flair and skill, but… he couldn’t help imagine all the possibilities. Darkness had been spreading quickly and easily lately; Aragorn was determined to rid these lands of those foul Orcs and had been thinking so for a while now. And he could guess what his elfling was planning to do. 

Oh, when he got his hands on Legolas… Aragorn ‘tsked’ grimly. It seemed Legolas was in need of some extra attention. Of course, he’d known that before, but he hadn’t known it was _this_ urgent. He had already been planning to allow Legolas to get what he wanted—which was, of course, his undivided attention, along with reassurance that things were still the same between them, even though Aragorn was having to spend more time with the older Rangers to properly plan out their strategy. He just had not expected Legolas to take matters into his own hands.

He should’ve, though. Aye, he knew Legolas well, _too_ well. He should’ve known that Legolas would seek out trouble in the best (or rather, worst) way he could—by doing something that would most certainly catch Aragorn’s eye. Like putting himself in danger needlessly. 

Legolas knew better than to do that. But it seemed his need for a little extra attention had blinded his common sense. Rest assured, Aragorn would attend to that swiftly. In fact, he was itching to get his hands on his elf. So, he fumed and worried and scowled the entire time they tramped through the woods. 

_“My lord, the footprints lead this way.”_

Aragorn gave a nod, allowing Elion to guide them. Elion was the best tracker out of them all. And thank the Valar for that, because tracking Legolas wasn’t an easy task, for Legolas could’ve easily journeyed from tree to tree as his woodland kin seemed to love doing, not to mention that elves moved lightly— their footprints were rather hard to discern. But Elion was right; Aragorn recognized Legolas’ faint footprints in the soil. It seemed he was in a rush. 

_“He shall be alright.”_

Halbarad’s quietly murmured words pulled Aragorn out of his thoughts. When Halbarad grinned, clearly enjoying surprising him far too much, Aragorn sheepishly glanced at him and muttered, _“Aye.”_

_“I vow you are not too happy with your elfling, Sir.”_

_“Nay, I am not. I vow you are not too happy with your own lad, Sir.”_ Aragorn gave a quick nod in Osben’s direction. The young Ranger was keeping his eyes focused on the ground as he stuck close by Elion, at least an arm’s length from him. And it seemed he had good reason for doing so; every few moments, Elion would turn to look, as though he were making sure he was still there, before turning his attention back to the footprints. 

_“Oh, I most certainly am not.”_ Halbarad chuckled. _“And neither is Elion. I made sure to inform him of recent events the moment I had a chance.”_

Aragorn winced. He knew far too well what that meant. _“Both of you, then?”_

Halbarad slid him another glance and his lips quirked into a slight smile. _“Of course. What else would it be? It seems my little lad has been feeling rather deprived of attention lately as well. Elion informed me that Osben tried to appeal the unfairness of my swats to him.”_

Aragorn snorted. Of all the mad things to do! 

Halbarad chuckled. _“Aye, Sir, that was my reaction as well. Elion was not too amused by his efforts, as brave as they were. I believe he expressed his displeasure quite well.”_

“Aragorn?”

Aragorn blinked, and he suddenly realized that he’d been staring at Legolas as his mind wandered. Legolas looked rather unsettled now. Aragorn knew that feeling all too well; being silently frowned at after some misbehaviour was quite disconcerting and troubling for the recipient. Aragorn wasn’t sorry for it, though. His elfling deserved to stew in his apprehension for endangering himself so recklessly.

He figured it was time to start heading back, though, so he responded, “Aye?” He turned and scanned his surroundings, frowning. He noticed Osben sitting on the ground, with Elion and Halbarad fussing over him as they took off his shoe. Hm. Just one injury then. Poor Osben. It seemed his discipline would have to wait until he was all healed; Aragorn felt a flash of sympathy at that, remembering just how torturous it was to wait to heal while anticipating a spanking. It seemed Halbarad and Elion would have their hands full for a while. 

“What—what’re you doing?” 

He sounded nervous. 

Aragorn turned to face him. “I am looking around.”

“Oh. I see.” Legolas shifted. “But…”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, enjoying far too much how Legolas was squirming. His pretty face was etched with guilt already.

“But…”

“Aye?”

“What’re you looking at?” Legolas hesitantly stepped closer.

Ah. Now Aragorn knew why he was so nervous. Legolas was worried that Aragorn was scanning the fields for a nice clump of boulders or a sturdy log that he could sit on to pull him over his lap in front of the whole Company. And, ohhh! He spotted a boulder not too far off and noticed Legolas stiffening when his eyes landed on it. He was tempted, truly. But he knew it wouldn’t be wise, not when he was still feeling the terror that had ripped through him when he saw Legolas diving to attack, all on his own. Nay, he would needs calm down first and debrief with the Company, as they always did. But for now, he was going to keep Legolas close by. He would not be leaving Aragorn’s sight. 

Aragorn saw Halbarad rise from where he’d been crouching over Osben before turning to face him and give him a small nod. Aragorn returned it, and began to walk. “Come, Sir.” 

“C-Come? Where?” Legolas scrambled after him, wringing his hands. He had a concerned frown on his pretty face. 

“We are returning.”

“Oh. I see. And… well, will you and I be returning as well?”

“Of course.” Aragorn continued to stride forward. “We must debrief. Then I shall attend to your misbehaviour.” Oh, how it thrilled him to speak those words! It calmed the anxiety he’d been feeling, knowing that he would be able to have his beloved elfling over his lap, feeling his weight and knowing he was there, still alive and well. He suddenly saw Legolas stop in the corner of his eye and frowned, pausing as well. “Come.”

Legolas turned a sad, forlorn gaze onto him. He had that lost, far away look in his eyes. 

Aragorn felt his heart waver, displeasure melting away to concern. He stepped closer to Legolas and murmured softly, “Come, Legolas. You know we must follow procedure. It is our duty.” When he still didn’t move, Aragorn, knowing he would get a reaction, pressed, “Are you not a member of the Grey Company?”

Legolas gasped at that. “I am!” he spluttered, looking wounded. “I am, Estel!”

“Shhh. I know you are.” Aragorn moved closer and pulled him into a warm hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He felt Legolas tremble and soothed him once more with a sweeping hand down his back. “I was not implying that you were no longer a member. You know I would never, beloved. You are too dear to my heart for me to do so.”

Legolas inhaled shakily, body stiffening, then muttered, “I know.”

 _Ai!_ That sounded more like his Legolas, filled with defiance, every single word spoken a cry for help, a plea for attention. Aragorn pulled back, pleased to have gotten such a reaction out of him. He had not wanted Legolas to slip into that dark place, where he seemed to forget just how much he meant to both Aragorn and the Company, instead believing that he had shamed himself far too much to remain worthy of any honour. 

Giving him one more look over, Aragorn nodded, resolved that Legolas would be alright for now, and ordered, “Come.”

* * *

It was unsettling, trailing after his Ranger as though he were naught but a chastised elfling. Legolas could feel the gazes of the other Rangers flitting over him occasionally as they trekked back to camp. He tried to ignore it. Instead, he allowed his senses to roam free, taking in every little detail. He could still smell the acrid stench of burning Orcs. Not an enjoyable task to do at all. Above the noises of the rustling trees, he could hear Elion, Halbarad, and Osben in a heated conversation.

“I can walk!” 

“Nay, you cannot. You will allow Elion to carry you back, Sir. And enough with that tone; it is unbecoming to have such an attitude.”

“I do not have an attitude!” 

“Hush.”

Legolas sighed. He knew Osben would heal quickly; his Aragorn would fix him in no time with his supply of _athelas_ and skilled hands. _Athelas_ was a miracle to have, indeed. The Rangers were lucky that Aragorn had brought a large supply from Rivendell before joining the Company.

They arrived at camp within minutes, all swiftly gathering around the fire that Faenor coaxed alive. They talked amongst themselves in little groups while Aragorn tended to Osben, as Legolas predicted he would. After finishing with his injury, Aragorn beckoned Halbarad and a few others, not sparing Legolas a glance as they pulled away from the fire to discuss amongst themselves in low voices. 

But Aragorn was watching. Oh, Legolas knew he was watching.

A guilty-looking Osben hesitated, then skittered up to him clumsily. He limped on the whittled crutches with which Elion had provided him the moment they arrived at camp. “Leg’las?” 

“Aye.” Legolas wasn’t in the mood to speak to him. He wanted to be alone so that he could properly sulk and tend to his upset by himself. He was mad at himself for… for… he did not know. But he was angry. 

“‘m sorry.”

And that got his attention. He lifted his head and stared. “What do you mean?” 

Osben stared back, looking stricken. “I… I couldn’t help it! When you left, Halbarad just… _oh,_ Legolas, he gave me one of those looks, the ones you can’t avoid without squirming or giving away that you know anything! And he asked if I’d seen you and then I—”

Legolas scowled, knowing exactly where this was headed. “You gave me away.”

Osben looked even guiltier. 

Legolas said no more, just turning back away from him. There was a small noise of distress next to him, and then Legolas saw Osben move away out of the corner of his eye, head downcast and looking absolutely crestfallen. He felt a pang of regret, but he pushed it away. No. He would not allow himself to feel anything. If anything, he deserved to feel such… such _bad,_ such hurt. Osben would understand. 

Aragorn and his group of older Rangers approached the fire once more and Legolas hastily sat down at his usual spot, right next to Aragorn. The debriefing was about to start. 

As they congregated, Legolas noticed Osben now sitting comfortably in Elion’s lap with a skillfully splinted foot. Elion wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on his head, clearly trying to take away the distress he was feeling, even if he didn’t know _why_ Osben felt so. Legolas knew. He ripped his gaze away with another pang of guilt. 

There was a small moment of silence, before Paenon declared, “Well! At least those Orcs are taken care of now.” A rumble of good-natured chuckles spread through the group like wildfire before a hushed silence fell upon them once more. 

Legolas’ face burned with every passing second, knowing that they were all looking at him, as though he was expected to speak in an attempt to justify his reckless actions. He began to wonder if that really was required of him when Aragorn spared him the embarrassment by asking, “Any injuries besides ‘ben’s?”

They all shook their heads. 

“We were lucky,” Halbarad murmured. “It could’ve ended much worse.”

Legolas pointedly stared at the ground.

He tuned out most of the debriefing session, knowing it was futile to try and pay attention. He was feeling too apprehensive of what was coming to concentrate. He knew how watchful Aragorn was, knew that he was under constant surveillance. It made him squirm. Did Aragorn think that he would dare to try running off again? That would be a foolish thing to do. Legolas was not foolish. He was not! 

He was so deep in his thoughts that when Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder, he jumped to his feet. His mouth went dry when he saw that the group had dispersed and were now heading off to clean themselves off from the skirmish. Which could only mean one thing…

Aragorn levelled a stern look at him, and ordered, “Come, Sir,” before turning and heading out of the camp.

And of course, Legolas followed, bottom twinging in anticipation. 

They didn’t have to travel far to find what Aragorn was looking for—a nice, big log for him to sit on. Legolas froze a few arm-lengths away from Aragorn, watching as he swept off his cloak and bunched it up so that Legolas would be able to rest his head on it while… while he lay over Aragorn’s lap. He shivered.

“Legolas.”

At Aragorn’s soft call, he forced himself to meet his eyes. Aragorn smiled. “Come,” he said, sitting down on the log. 

Legolas was beginning to hate that word. “Aye,” he replied, and didn’t move.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. “This is long overdue, Sir.”

“Aye.”

“You deserve it, and nothing less.”

“Mm.”

“Is that not right, elfling mine? Don’t you deserve to have your naughty bottom spanked for behaving with a lack of such elvish decorum you usually display?”

Legolas scowled at his words. Such crude words! They made him want to snarl. And snarl he did. “Aye!”

“Pardon?”

Silence.

Aragorn patted his lap, pouring more oil on the fire that was beginning to rage inside of Legolas. When he still didn’t move, Aragorn raised an eyebrow.“Must I count?”

“No!” Legolas shot back, trembling in an effort to hold himself back from lunging at Aragorn and clamping a hand over his mouth to silence him, to make him hush and unable to speak such wretched words. “Nay, Sir, you shall not count.”

“Ah. I see.” Aragorn gave him an appraising look. “I was unaware that a naughty little one is fit to give orders.” 

Legolas fumed. 

“I shall give you one more chance to come on your own, ‘las,” Aragorn told him. “Do not make me get up from my seat.”

It was a wretched seat. Legolas told him so, making Aragorn throw his head back and laugh. Still, Legolas approached, knowing better than to hold out and worsen the consequences for himself. He had done that far too much before, and it never ended well for his backside.

“So you _can_ follow orders.” Aragorn reached out and took Legolas arm and began to draw him over his lap. 

Legolas followed stiffly, trying to remain composed and stoic, even as Aragorn’s words—all of which he was most certainly saying on purpose to try and get a rise out of him—continued to provoke and make him squirm. When he hesitated, Aragorn _tugged_ and he landed with a soft, “Oomph!” 

Aragorn hummed. “See? All secure now.” He pulled Legolas closer to him with his left arm and started to yank down Legolas’ leggings.

Legolas jerked. “Please, Estel!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself. “Do not!” 

Aragorn paused. The sound of Legolas’ ragged breathing was the only thing filling up the stillness between them. Then, Aragorn spoke, voice low and hushed. “Surely you did not expect that I wouldn’t spank you bare?”

Legolas gasped and writhed in vain. “N-No!” he stammered. “I—”

“I have always pulled your leggings down ‘ere a spanking.”

“I-I—”

“Did you believe that I wouldn’t do so this time, sweet one?”

“No! I—” Legolas broke off with a growl.“I—”

“Did you just growl at me?”

“No!” Legolas glowered at the ground. “I mean, yes. But, but—Estel, please. I don’t—I do not think that such… such a method is necessary!” He was not even sure what he was saying at this point. He sounded mad. 

Aragorn clearly thought so too, because he was quiet for a while before he murmured, “I see.”

Legolas nodded, swallowing. “Aye. S-So, there… there is no need to—”

“Pull down your leggings. Aye. You have expressed your concerns adequately. I hear you.”

Legolas went limp. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” With that, Aragorn yanked down his leggings all the way down to his ankles in one swift motion. Caught off guard, Legolas reared up with a yelp of protest, but Aragorn’s grip on him was too firm to give him any leeway. 

“Aragorn!”

“Mm?”

“You—you said—”

“Hm? What did I say?”

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut. “You said you wouldn’t!”

Aragorn brushed a hand over his hair. “I never said that, little one,” he pointed out wisely with a grin in his tone. “I merely heard your concerns and after careful consideration, I deemed them unfit.”

“Unfit!” Legolas spluttered.

“Aye. Unfit.”

“‘Tis unfair.” Legolas glared. 

“I believe Osben says the same thing.”

Legolas scowled. “Do not compare me to that… that little boy.” To bring Osben up when his teasing words, his _“You are a good boy indeed, Sir!”_ had been what spurred Legolas’ misbehaviour on was… was… unfair! 

Aragorn hummed. “You are certainly acting like him, getting all worked up and letting your temper fly. I advise against it when you are in this position, Sir.”

Legolas told him exactly what he thought of Aragorn’s suggestion with some rather colourful language.

Aragorn chuckled. “Impressive. But again, most unwise.” With that, he landed his first spank.

Legolas gave a muffled yelp, having buried his face into Aragorn’s cloak. He bit down on the cloth, refusing to make any noise that might indicate the fact that Aragorn’s swats were _hard_ and they _hurt._

By the fourth swat, Aragorn paused, clearly finding something amiss, before he gave a small grunt of displeasure and muttered, “Oh, a fine strategy, my sweet elfling. Spit my cloak out. Right. Now.” He punctuated his words with swats that especially stung.

“OW!” 

“Thank you.”

Legolas growled again, but Aragorn paid him no mind. Instead, he told Legolas sweetly, “Now, I believe we shall be having a discussion about today’s events sometime in the near future. But for now, hush and allow me to attend to you.” 

In the near future! Legolas jerked as Aragorn’s swats picked up speed. Ow, ow, OW! He huffed and yelped and squirmed, trying to predict where the next one might fall so he could twist to try and avoid it. It didn’t work. Aragorn just chuckled at his efforts, which, if anything, aggravated him even more. “Aragorn! _Ai!”_

“Shhh.”

Infuriating Ranger! Legolas just buried his face in Aragorn’s cloak again, though he made sure he wasn’t biting down on it this time. Ow, ow, _ow…_

Legolas let his mind drift, jerking every time Aragorn gave him a particularly hard swat. Aragorn spanked methodically, straightforwardly. There was no beginning, middle, or end. It just was. There was no more to it.

He had been on the receiving end of his wretchedly tireless hand far too often. Like that time he’d wandered off and fell asleep in a tree without informing anyone. Or that time he’d directly defied Aragorn’s orders in front of the whole Company. Oh, that had been a rough spanking indeed. Or that time he’d chosen to goad Osben in hopes of gaining some attention. His face burned at that one. Osben… little Osben… his mind drifted to him again, and the hurt in his eyes when Legolas had spoken so roughly and cruelly to him. Legolas shuddered. He was mean. He was _so_ mean. Stupid, stupid, _stupid—_

“What are you thinking?”

Legolas froze. “W-What?” Oh, his bottom stung. It was a steady blaze now; it was probably rather rosy. He winced at the thought. Cursed imagination.

“Legolas!” 

“Ow!” Legolas jerked and squeezed his eyes shut. “W-What?”

“Tell me what you were thinking of,” Aragorn prompted once more, though he sounded less patient this time. His hand rested on Legolas’ backside, not rubbing or moving, just resting. 

Legolas shivered. “N-Nothing. OW!” He trembled. He didn’t want to say! He didn’t, he didn’t… 

“I highly do not recommend lying to me right now, little one,” Aragorn murmured. “Don’t you agree?”

Legolas sniffed. “Uh-huhhh. N-No lying.”

“Mmm.” 

Legolas could hear a grin in Aragorn’s tone. 

“Very good,” his Ranger continued to croon. “So, go on, then. Answer my question.”

Legolas let out a small noise of distress. “I… NO!” He spluttered when Aragorn lifted his hand, tensing in anticipation for the swat that was sure to fall.

“No?”

The swat did not fall. Yet.

“I-I meant, n-no, don’t—don’t—” Legolas quivered, burying his face in his hands, unable to bring himself to say the words that sent his face into flames.

“Ahhh.” Aragorn sounded amused. “You meant ‘no, do not swat my naughty bottom.’ Is that right, Sir?”

Legolas snarled. 

“Well?”

“Aye!” 

He let out his first proper wail when Aragorn swatted him hard and chastised, “Your tone, Sir.”

Legolas exhaled shakily, closing his eyes.

“I vow you need more time to think before answering my questions. I shall provide you with that time.” With that, Aragorn began spanking again with no further warning.

Legolas _bellowed._ How was it possible for a spanking to hurt more than before after a short interlude? “OW! Estel! P-Please!”

“Hush.”

Wretched Ranger! 

Continuing to squeeze his eyes shut, he wrestled with Aragorn’s cloak, torn between wanting to bite down on it again and knowing that if he had any common sense, he wouldn’t. Aragorn would be rather displeased for trying to bite a hole through his cloak. He had told him so once. 

_“I vow you are trying to give my cloak some intricate designs, my elfling.”_

_“Mmph!”_

_“Was that a yes?”_

_“Mmmgrrgh!”_

_“Hm. I shall assume so. However much I appreciate your efforts, I’m going to have to ask that you stop that immediately. Open. I want to hear you and your words. At once, Sir.”_

_“Mmph—OW!”_

_“Thank you. Much better.”_

_“Y-You are not going to speak to me anyways!”_ Legolas foolishly howled.

_“Oh, I will. Just not right this second. Now hush. When I deem you ready for our discussion, we shall begin.”_

Oh, how unfair it was! Legolas longed to wail at the top of his lungs, but he didn’t. He clamped his lips shut, only making small, grating noises at the back of his throat every time a particularly hard swat landed. 

This was unfair.

It was.

All over just a bit of an impulsive plan on his part. It had not even ended badly. Aragorn was overreacting. He… he had no right! Legolas was older than Aragorn, Legolas was stronger and faster and curse it all! This _hurt!_ When Aragorn finished with him, Legolas was going to tell him just how unreasonable this all was, and that this would no longer be an act that he partook in. And Aragorn would have to listen, because he was an elf, and a Prince. 

“Do you believe that?”

Legolas jerked, squeezing his fists. “W-What?”

Aragorn paused in his efforts and rested a hand on his bottom. Legolas shuddered at the small reprieve, unsure whether he wanted to push into the warm hand or pull away from it. 

Aragorn was not much of a talker near the beginning of a spanking. Quite a contrast from Legolas, in fact; he preferred to scold and lecture from the beginning. So the fact that Aragorn was already speaking to him meant something. He just didn’t know what. Not yet.

“Legolas!”

“OW!” Legolas buried his face into Aragorn’s cloak. “W-WHAT!”

“Do not bellow at me so impudently, Sir,” Aragorn muttered, making Legolas tense as he tried to avoid the inevitable spank that fell not a second later. “‘twas you who was not listening. Isn’t that right?”

“A-Aye.”

Silence.

“F-Forgive me.”

“Mm. Of course, _meleth_ _nîn_ _.”_ Aragorn’s warm hand gently rubbed his now tingly bottom. “Now. Back to the matter on hand. Do you truly believe that?”

Legolas rubbed his face against the soft Elven cloak. It felt good. It smelled like Aragorn. A good smell. He flinched when Aragorn’s hand lifted again and hastily sputtered, “W-What? Believe w-what?”

Aragorn was quiet for a few moments, letting Legolas squirm. And squirm he did. A few moments later, his Ranger murmured, “Do you really believe that you don’t deserve to be over my lap, getting your naughty bottom spanked?”

Legolas groaned at the words. “H-How—”

“How did I know?” Aragorn chuckled. “I always know, sweet one. You know I do.”

Aye, he did know. Wretched Dúnedain insight. Knowing he was cornered and it was futile to try and wriggle out of said corner, he just nodded miserably. “Uh-huhhh. You do know, Arag—OW!”

Aragorn spanked in silence for a few more moments, ignoring Legolas’ blathering.

“P-Please! Ar’gorn! I want—let’s— _please!_ C-Can’t we talk—OW—‘bout t-this PLEASE!” 

“Oh, we shall talk,” Aragorn promised. “But you are not yet ready.”

“I am!” Legolas sputtered, tensing and clenching his bottom as he squirmed. “P-Please—”

“Hush. You do not set the pace, Sir, I do.”

“OWWW!”

“Am I correct?”

“Y-You are!” 

“Mm. Then we understand one another. Good. Now hush.”

Hush indeed! 

Legolas let out a small sob, the first of many that were soon to come. Succumbing to his fate, he just wrapped his arms around himself and buried his face in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please feel free to leave comments and kudos below, that's the best crack for a writer <3 i also hope you like Osben and Halbarad and Elion, because i have a work for that trio to be posted in the near future !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this last chapter! :)

Aragorn watched as Legolas hugged himself with his arms, keeping his head low as he weeped quietly. He hummed thoughtfully. Legolas only did so when he was feeling ashamed or another way he couldn’t quite understand. It was probably the two combined this time. 

Legolas had been spoiling for a fight; he _needed_ Aragorn to remind him of what he knew deep inside—that he cared and loved him, that if Legolas acted out, Aragorn would be there to stop him. And judging by the way he was quivering and tensing before each next swat, it seemed his sweet elfling was rather out of practice. 

Some might think their relationship odd, in all honesty. They were both able to switch in and out of their roles in a split second; it was why they understood each other so well. Aragorn knew all too well the feeling of loss and confusion that plagued one when things started to feel out of control. Aragorn had his suspicions on why Legolas had done what he did today, but he wasn’t going to ask him so directly. Nay, that would defeat the whole purpose of what they were doing right now. Legolas needed Aragorn to make him say it while showing that he was there to listen and understand. Aragorn would. In these situations, he understood Legolas better than Legolas understood himself.

“OW!”

Aragorn ‘tsked’ and pulled his beloved elf closer to him again, wanting him to feel the weight of his arm hugging Legolas’ body against himself. “You are making quite a fuss.”

“I think you would too if you were—OW!”

“Quite the sass as well.” Aragorn continued to spank him, letting his hand fall down hard. Legolas hissed and squirmed. 

“Well-deserved sass! OW!”

“Oh, is it?” Aragorn chuckled. “There is no such thing as ‘well-deserved sass,’ Sir. There is only impertinence, and that is what you are showing me right now.” When Legolas didn’t reply, he swatted him hard again, making him yelp. “Is that not right?”

“I-I… OWWW!”

“Well?” Aragorn continued to let his hand fall hard and fast, feeling his brow furrowing in concentration as he did so. “Legolas. I am waiting for an answer.” He was impressed with the stamina his elfling was showing.

“It is!” Legolas shot back with a hint of a growl in his tone. “P-Please! Ar’gorn!”

“Aye, ‘las. I hear you.”

“T-Too hard!”

Surprised, Aragorn stopped and stared down at him incredulously. “What?”

Legolas gave a quiet sniffle and turned his head to look at Aragorn. He didn’t miss the way his elfling’s blue eyes sparkled indignantly. “It’s t-too hard, my l-lord. You are going t-too—OWW! Hard!”

Aragorn snorted and gently pushed his head back down. “I beg to differ.” Legolas made an offended noise but as Aragorn had predicted he would, just cradled his head in his arms again and let Aragorn continue. Legolas had just been pushing, seeing if the boundaries were still the same as always. He _wanted_ Aragorn to push him down and tell him to hush and carry on at the same speed and intensity. 

Legolas cried out and quivered like a taut bowstring in his lap, but he didn’t voice any more protests. Aragorn couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at his lips as he remembered what Legolas had once said to him in response to his words. 

_“I beg to differ, elfling mine.”_

_“T-Then beg!”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“OWWWW!”_

_Ai!_ The audacity of his elf! 

It had definitely been far too long since Legolas had last been in this position. In fact, _he_ had pulled Aragorn over his lap more often. It was no wonder he was acting out, trying to get a reaction out of Aragorn. 

Aragorn was sure that he was giving his elfling a fine reaction indeed. 

Legolas was growing more frantic in his efforts to squirm away from the swats. His efforts, though futile, were endearing. Aragorn watched as his arm twitched, like he was trying to resist throwing a hand back to cover his backside. Not that it would do anything. But he was watching and waiting, knowing what was soon to come.

And come it did. Legolas finally gave a sharp kick and sputtered a cough before going limp, quietly crying. 

It pulled at Aragorn’s heartstrings. It always did. Hearing his elfling cry, knowing that _his_ hand was the one making him weep so, was never an easy thing to process. But it was what they both needed. Legolas had done something reckless today, and Aragorn had been terrified. Legolas deserved this. And Aragorn deserved to get some comfort out of the reminder that lay plain and clear in front of him, that Legolas was not injured or hurting. Save his rosy bottom, of course. 

Aragorn paused in his efforts and watched as Legolas cried into his arms, taking big, deep shuddering breaths as he realized that the spanking had stopped. For now.

“Are you ready to have a civil conversation now, elfling mine?” Aragorn asked, gently resting a hand on Legolas’ bottom.

“Uh-huhhh.”

“You are?”

“A-Aye.”

“Mmm. Goooood.” Aragorn critically swept an eye over Legolas’ body, relishing in his weight over his lap. Yes. Legolas definitely had been wanting a little extra attention. 

“W-What’re we gonna talk ‘bout?”

Legolas’ tearful question made Aragorn smile. “What would you like to talk about?”

Ohhh, such a question could be a dangerous thing to play with! An open-ended question always served to be a temptation for more sputtered sass. He knew that all too well himself. Oftentimes, when he was over a lap and was presented with such bait, he latched on to it. It was too fun and hard to resist. 

_“Are you ready to speak now?”_

_“Do I look ready to speak? Ow! OW, ada, please!”_

_“Do not beg, my son. There is nothing to beg for; you have landed yourself in this position. Now, once again, do you feel ready for a conversation? If needs be, I can wait. I am patient.”_

_“Ada!”_

Oh, Elrond’s everlasting patience could be infuriating. 

“A-Ar’gorn?”

“Aye, sweet one?”

“I…”

Aragorn waited.

“M-Maybe we could talk ‘bout the Orcs.” Legolas sniffled and rubbed his face on Aragorn’s cloak, trembling. “W-We prob’ly should. There m-might still be Orcs lyin’ around. Gotta get rid of them a-all, come u-up with a stra-de-gy.”

Aragorn stared down at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“T-The Orcs—”

“Aye, I heard you.” Aragorn almost laughed. He trembled from the effort of holding it back. “We shall indeed be talking about Orcs, elfling mine. But you need not fret your pretty head about them; _I_ will take care of them with a well thought-out plan.” He brought his hand down, feeling that Legolas needed a bit more incentive to be cooperative. “Perhaps we should talk about _your_ well thought-out plan today.”

“M-My plan?” Legolas quivered.

“Aye.”

“I-I did not—” Legolas broke off and there was a moment of silence between them. 

“Continue, Sir.”

Legolas squirmed. When Aragorn raised his knee and made to land a few well-earned spanks on the sensitive curve ‘neath his cheeks, Legolas quickly cried out, “I-I will continue!”

“Ah. I am glad to hear it.”

“Uh-huhhh.” Legolas sniffled. 

“You were saying something about a plan.” 

“I-I did not h-have one.” Legolas rested his head on his arms, staring off to the side with a pretty pout on his lips. “D-Didn’t mean to go after them.”

“Oh?” That was promising. “Do go on.”

“H-Hal’brad told me to go s-straight back to camp.”

“I see. And why did he do that?”

Legolas’ brow furrowed in confusion. “‘cause... ‘cause I was cryin’. Hal’brad said some nice words and—and it made me _upset!”_ He sounded rather put off by it, now properly and openly sulking. 

“And what did he say?”

Legolas burrowed his face back into his arms, as though he were trying to hide.

“None of that now, little brat.”

“OWWW!”

Aragorn spanked him a few more times for good measure before prompting, “Well, _meleth n_ _în_ _?”_

Legolas whimpered, sounding every bit like the elfling Aragorn called him to be. “H-He said… he said you were worried ‘bout me! S-Said ‘s okay to be sad, t-to have that b-big sad inside!” Legolas burst into tears again, trembling all over.

Ah. Aragorn felt a flash of sympathy for Legolas. His wise lieutenant with his softly-spoken words. Of course they would have an effect on Legolas. Halbarad’s words enthralled everyone. Aragorn himself had been reduced to tears several times whenever he gave a speech. It was no wonder Legolas had become so emotional. 

“I see.” Smoothing a hand over Legolas’ red bottom, he murmured, “What other sweet murmurings did my elfling hear from Halbarad?”

“H-He—” Legolas broke off to cough tearfully and repeated, “Told m-me to go s-s-straight back. N-No detours.”

“Ah. I see.” Aragorn lifted his hand. “But you did not obey him.”

“OWWW! AR’GORN!”

“Aye?”

“P-Please! OW!”

“Legolas. Did you or did you not choose to disregard my lieutenant’s orders?”

“A-Aye, I d-did. B-But—” Legolas let out another bursting sob.

“Even though in this case, his authority was my authority?”

“A-Aye!”

“So you chose to defy my authority as well?”

“A-AYE! But,but,but—” Legolas sputtered indignantly, unable to form any words for a few moments in his distress. It was too adorable. “W-Wasn’t my fault!”

Aragorn huffed an indulgent laugh. If Legolas wanted to play a game, Aragorn would let him. He was feeling rather nice today. “Pray tell, then, little one. Whose fault was it, if not yours?”

“O-O-Osben’s.”

* * *

When one was being spanked, there came a point at which the mouth decided to detach itself from the brain. It caused trouble, really; blathering out ungoverned words never ended up well. In fact, it provoked a few hard swats to come raining down on an already burning bottom. Legolas was going through such a thing at the moment. He barely registered his own words ‘ere he spoke them. So it was no wonder that he blurted out Osben’s name when prompted. In any other situation that didn’t involve his bottom being heated up, he would’ve laughed. 

Aragorn clearly did not find it so amusing. Giving him another hard swat for what he clearly thought was cheek, he muttered, “Was it indeed?” 

Legolas nodded. “Uh-huhhh. H-His words made meeee, Ar’gorn!” 

Damn his mouth. 

Legolas tensed, waiting for the hard swats that were clearly going to rain down once more for such impertinence. As he quivered and tensed in anticipation, Aragorn… he… surprisingly, Aragorn paused and rested his hand on his bottom. Ah! A reprieve! 

“Perhaps you would like to be given the chance to explain yourself once again, elfling mine,” his Ranger murmured. 

“Yes! P-Please, Ara—”

“Shhh. I shall lead our discussion. You only needs follow along and answer like a good little elfling. Now. Let us start from the beginning.” 

“OW! T-There’s no be-beginning!”

Another swat. “I beg to differ.”

“Ar’gorn!”

“You claimed this was Osben’s fault, Sir. We shall start there. Tell me, sweet one, how did Osben’s words _make_ you carry out such a naughty deed?” 

_Ai!_ Legolas trembled. That was a hard question to start with! It was not fair! 

“Legolas.”

When he felt Aragorn shift, clearly planning to target the soft undercurve of his bottom now, Legolas hastily spluttered, “He—he teased!”

Aragorn hummed. “How so?” 

Flushing bright red, Legolas hung his head. “He…”

“Legolas. I am a patient man. I can wait all day; ‘tis only your sweet bottom that shall suffer the consequences.” With that, he picked up his speed, directing his swats onto that wretched spot, right between his bottom and his thighs. 

“Owww!” Legolas kicked, infuriated. “‘ben called me _g-good!_ H-He said I was a g-good boy! OW!” 

“Ah.” Aragorn paused again, granting Legolas a chance to catch his breath and quietly weep. “And that bothered my poor little elfling.”

“A-Aye!”

“You wanted to prove him wrong, is that so?” 

“N-No!” 

“Legolas.”

“OWWW! A-AYE!”

“You know I do not approve of lying.” Aragorn’s spanks grew in intensity, making Legolas wail and buck as he tried to avoid them in vain. “‘tis most unwise, Sir, considering your position.”

“A-Aye!”

“If you lie to me again, I will not hesitate to fetch a bar of soap and wash such naughtiness out of your mouth. I vow you will not lie again afterwards.”

 _“Ai!_ NOOO! Ow, ow, OW! I-I won’t! No l-lying!” Legolas sobbed and kicked.

“Mm. I am glad we are on the same page, elfling mine.” Aragorn paused and gently rubbed a hand over his bottom, making him groan and tremble. “And now, I think you owe me an apology for such unmannerly behaviour.”

“I-I am sorry. Sorryyyy, Ar’gorn, s-sorry.” 

“Very good, little one.” 

Legolas let out another small groan. “P-Ple—”

“Shhh. We have not yet finished our discussion.” Aragorn smoothed his hand over Legolas’ bottom one more time before lifting it and letting it fall again. 

“OW!” 

“Now. Let us move on. Are you ready to do so, little one?” 

Legolas nodded hard enough to give himself whiplash. 

“Mm. Gooood.” There was a hint of amusement in Aragorn’s voice, making Legolas scowl. He could not help but nod so fiercely when his bottom was under such assault! He let out a small groan. He would be sleeping on his stomach tonight. 

“Legolas.”

“U-Uh-huhh?”

“Why did Osben’s words bother you so much?” 

Legolas groaned, clenching his fists as he squirmed. He hated that question. It was not fair to ask such an insightful question. And Aragorn still continued on, spanking away, encouraging the blazing fire that he now felt in his bottom. “P-Please—”

“Legolas. Why?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“I think you do.”

“N-Nay, Ar’g—Estel! No! I d-do not! _Not!_ OWWW!”

“Your tone, little one.” Aragorn sighed. “Perhaps my elfling needs an incentive. Is that what you need, Sir? Must I lift my leg and spank the soft curve ‘neath your bottom again?”

“NOOO!”

“I did not hear you.”

Legolas choked back a sob and shook his head, fiercely once again, feeling his long hair fly. “N-No. N-Noooo, Ar’gorn.”

“Ah. I see.” 

Legolas turned his head to the side as he weeped, whimpering when he felt Aragorn’s hand gently brush his damp hair away from his tear-stained face. At such a tender act of affection, Legolas couldn’t hold back the new sobs that burst forth. They were a new kind of tears, different from before. Tears that washed away the hurt that had been welling up inside him for a while now, the fear and the bad, _bad_ thoughts that clung to those fears, haunting him every night as they lay in their bedrolls. 

The others could not hear as well as Legolas, even with the blessed Dùnedain blood running through their veins. Only Legolas could hear the sounds of the Orcs running through the fields, snarling and growling to each other, swearing that they would clear these lands from all but their filthy, wretched selves. 

Legolas _hated_ them. 

Hated that they made him so scared, not of being hurt himself, but that his Estel and the other Rangers he’d grown so fond of would be hurt. And Aragorn was about to make him say it aloud! He let out another small groan.

“Oh, _meleth nîn._ My poor, sweet little elfling.” Aragorn’s thumbs gently brushed over Legolas’ cheek, pulling him out of the nightmare he’d gotten stuck in again. “Shhh. You’re alright. I am here.” 

Legolas’ vision blurred with more tears at that. His Estel was here. Here, safe, not riddled with foul Orc arrows or suffering from any sort of injury. His Estel, his gentle, sweet Estel, who was still quite displeased with his actions. “A-Ara—” 

“Shhhh. Breathe, little one.”

Legolas tried to obey, taking deep, shuddery breaths. He listened to Aragorn’s breathing as he did so, trying to copy it, trying to stop the tears that wouldn’t stop falling like raindrops. 

“Ah. There you go. You are doing so well, little one. I am so very proud of you.”

Legolas shook his head at that, hard. “D-Don’t,” he begged in a trembling voice. Aragorn could _not_ be proud of him. He did not deserve it. 

Aragorn made a small, sad noise above him, but clearly having understood, he did not speak any more such words. For now. Instead, he just swept a hand over Legolas’ hair and murmured, “You need not feel such bad thoughts, _mellon nin._ You are too hard on yourself for the things you cannot control.”

At that, Legolas felt a jolt run down his spine, lightning fast and hard. Oh! Ohhh! Aragorn knew! He knew! He knew the horrors that had been haunting Legolas. He knew even though Legolas had not told him, still stuck in fear of being shamed. He turned his head to the side again and let himself cry. How embarrassing. _He_ was embarrassing. He was not worthy of such high praise from Aragorn, let alone pride. He was not good. Legolas was… was… he was not good! 

He could hear the sounds of the Orcs again in his head, even while knowing that they were just a figment of his imagination now. They were all gone—most likely. The ones that had been drawing closer and closer to them each night were now gone, anyways. But they still lived on in his mind, as bits and pieces of their sounds and his imagination. 

Just the day before Osben had called him a good boy, Legolas had been tempted to go and slay every single one of them, damn it all! ‘twas not fair that Aragorn, his beloved Estel, should suffer so much from such disgusting, lowly creatures! _He_ could’ve helped. He could’ve done more. He should have. 

It was an honour to be travelling with the Grey Company. Such noble men, they were. Far more noble than him. He still remembered the first time his ada had given him permission to go off into the wild with him.

 _“Really, ada?”_ he’d exclaimed, with Aragorn grinning beside him. _“I can go?”_

Thranduil chuckled. _“Aye, Legolas. You are a wise, experienced warrior. It would be a blessing indeed to have my son travel with such respectable men.”_

_“Ai! Thank you, ada!”_

_“Make me as proud as I have ever been, my son.”_

Ohhh, he could bet that his ada would _not_ be proud of him at all. What would Thranduil have done? Exactly what Legolas hadn’t done, of course. His strong, brave ada would’ve charged straight at the crowd of Orcs, slaying them all one by one without shedding a single drop of his royal blood. By the end of it all, he would’ve been a sight to behold, a painting that was worthy of being hung in the halls of their kingdom. 

But not Legolas. Legolas did not deserve any of that. For how many nights now had he lied in bed silently, pretending to doze, secretly staying awake so that he could keep watch? Aye, the Rangers of the Grey Company were intelligent and attentive, but Legolas was even more so. He did not need sleep. He had told Aragorn that a while ago.

_“I shall keep watch every night from now on, Aragorn. ‘tis only just.”_

_“Just, did you say?”_

_“Aye.”_

_“Just.”_

_“Aye, my lord. I assume we have an agreement?”_

_“No.”_

_“Pardon?”_

_“You will not keep watch every night, Legolas. You shall lay beside me and rest, sleep, even.”_

_“But I am—”_

_“An elf. Aye. And elves need rest.”_

_“But I can—”_

_“Go for longer without rest than us mortals. Aye, Sir, I know. And I am telling you no.”_

It was not difficult to guess who had come out of that conversation victorious. 

“Legolas.”

“OWWW!” Legolas squalled at the fierce spanks that followed the reprimand. “S-Sorry! Ara—sorryyy!” he blathered. 

“I should think so.” _Ai!_ The displeasure in Aragorn’s tone shot a shiver down his spine. “Stay with me in the present, sweet one. I require your constant attention, do you understand?”

“U-Uh-huhh!”

“Good. Now, little one, tell me what made you decide to ignore Halbarad’s orders.”

“I-I—I did not ig-nore—”

“Did you misunderstand them?”

“Noooo.”

“Did you mishear him?”

“Noooo!”

“Ah. So you ignored them, then.”

Legolas whimpered. “I-I—did not mean to!” 

“Would you care to explain, my sweet elfling?”

Legolas nodded. “Uh-huhhh. C-Can explain.” He tried, he really did. But he’d reached the point where his mind was going too sluggish for his own good, drifting here and there as he tried to form words. 

As his bottom continued to be heated, he felt a surge of regret swelling up inside him. Just what in the name of Valar had possessed him to pursue such an asinine act? Ohhh, he would never go Orc-hunting by himself again. Never, ever again. 

Never ever was a long time.

_“We’ll never do it again, ada! Never ever again.”_

Thranduil had given him a fond, amused look. _“Never ever is a long time, my son. Do not make promises you cannot keep.”_

 _“I shall stay out of trouble,”_ Legolas had vowed. _“Even when Elladan and Elrohir try to pull me into their antics, I shall resist.”_

 _“Oh, little Greenleaf. You are a wonder indeed.”_ Glorfindel, who’d been travelling with them to Mirkwood at the time, had affectionately ruffled his hair. _“The day you and the twins stay out of trouble will be the same day I shall mourn, for I will no longer have the honour of having your pretty bottom grace my lap.”_

Amazing, how even a small memory could send his face up into flames.

It was one thing to be spanked by his ada, or by his Estel. It was another to be over the balrog-slayer’s lap. 

“Legolas!”

“OWWW!” Legolas reared up with a cry. 

“Are you with me now, little one?” Aragorn demanded.

“AYE! S-Sorry!”

“Hm.” 

“D-Didn’t mean to.”

“So you say.” Aragorn sighed and rested his hand on Legolas’ bottom. “Perhaps you need some assistance. Would you like some help in answering my questions, elfling mine?”

Legolas nodded hastily, eyes filling up with even more tears. “A-Aye!”

“Very well. Do you recall what I asked you earlier, little one?”

“Y-You want’d to know w-why I i-ignored Hal’brad.”

“Ah. My clever little elfling.” Aragorn swept a hand over his hair, making him push into the touch, lapping up every bit of affection he was shown. “Perhaps you intended to obey Halbarad at first, but became sidetracked as all naughty little ones do. Is that what happened, ‘las?”

Legolas nodded again, quivering. His Estel knew. He always knew. “A-Aye!”

“Did my little one climb a tree?” Aragorn’s tone was full of fondness now. Fondness, for _him._ “I know my little elfling scales a tree when he wants to be soothed.”

Legolas shed a few more tears at that, quivering at the tenderness of the situation. “U-Uh-huhhh. Ar’gorn, I-I c-climbed—”

“Ah, so you did.” Aragorn gave him another swat, though it was not as harsh as the previous ones. It still did not fail to further ignite the blazing in his bottom. “And what did you see up there?”

“I-I—” Legolas coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Saw l-lots of things. L-Leaves.”

“Ah. I have no doubt you saw leaves, little one.” Aragorn was grinning now; Legolas could hear it. No wonder, too! He sounded every bit like the little elfling Aragorn kept calling him. “What else?”

Legolas wracked his brain. It was _so_ _slow._ “B-Bees.”

Aragorn’s hand, which had been gently petting his hair, stopped at that. “Bees, did you say?”

Legolas nodded earnestly. “Bees, Ar’gorn,” he confirmed. “B-But they were not r-really bees. They were O-Orcses.” 

“Ahhh.” Aragorn’s hand went back into its gentle, soothing rhythm. “So, my little elfling saw the Orcs in the distance with his keen, sharp eyes.”

“Uh-huhhh.”

“And you raced back to find Halbarad?”

Legolas frowned, suddenly unsure of how to answer. He hesitated for a moment too long. “O-OW! N-Nay! I did n-not! OW!”

“Ah. Then you tried to come back to camp.”

“N-NAY!” Legolas felt another sob burst through. “I d-did not! You k-know this, Ar’gorn! You know! OWWW!”

“Never mind what _I_ know, little one. I want to know what _you_ know.”

“I…” Aragorn’s hand slowed again into smaller swats, making him shudder as he caught his breath. “I w-went to them, Ar’gorn. All b-by myself.”

“With no backup?”

Legolas shook his head.

“No plan?”

Another shake of his head.

“All by yourself.”

A nod, and then— “OW!”

“That was very naughty indeed, was it not, little one?”

“I-It was!” Legolas agreed with a hiccup. “S-Sorry!”

“Hm. And what was my little elfling thinking as he went to fight the Orcs, all by himself?”

“W-Was thinkin’...” Legolas wracked his brain. What _had_ he been thinking?”

“Perhaps my wise little elfling was thinking that he could handle them by himself, no backup, no plan, all alone. Perhaps my wise little elfling thought he could, and _should,_ because he is an elf in the company of men. Perhaps my wise little elfling thought that it was the princely thing to do, and that it was your duty. Perhaps my wise, _naughty_ little elfling thought he knew better than everyone else because of all these reasons. Is that fair to say, _meleth nîn?”_

“I-I… OWWW!”

“I could not hear you.”

“OWWW! ARA—’STEL! P-PLE—”

“Hm. I still cannot hear an answer.”

“B-Because y-you are sp-spank’ing t-too hard! OWWW!”

“Oh. Perhaps you are right. My apologies.” Aragorn was grinning again.

Wretched Ranger! 

“Back to my question, Legolas,” Aragorn reminded, nudging him back into the right direction ‘ere he earned himself a few more hard swats. “Is that all fair to say?”

Legolas quivered. He twisted his fists in Argorn’s cloak, still clutching on to it tightly. He weeped, long and hard. Then, finally, he gasped, “A-Aye!”

With that, he collapsed, going limp, having no more energy to try and keep himself composed.

* * *

It was as he had expected.

Of course, Aragorn had known from the start why Legolas did what he did. But knowing it and hearing it were two different things. 

It was not the first time Legolas had pulled such a stunt. His excuse was the same each time: _“I thought I could handle it.”_

What he meant was: _“I_ knew _I could handle it even though you told me ‘no’ because I am an elf and you are a man.”_

It did not come from a bad place, Aragorn knew. Legolas only wanted to play his part while travelling with the Grey Company; he did not want to be fighting in the back while the good men were out in the front. Legolas had even told him so, bluntly, once, when they were preparing for bed.

_“I do not enjoy being made to stay at our tents while others go on excursions. It makes me feel… lazy.”_

Aragorn had shot him a surprised look at that. _“Lazy? Ai! Legolas, mellon nin, you are anything but!”_

 _“Nay, Estel. You do not understand.”_ There was a look of distress in his eyes, one that told Aragorn that this was coming from his heart, from a place of love. _“I fear that while I am sitting in our tent, your beloved men are putting themselves in danger. I fear that they do not hear the dangers that I could, creeping and lurking and waiting to sweep them away from our arms. It does not feel… just, or even reasonable, knowing that ‘tis my duty to be out there with them.”_

 _“‘tis not your duty to exhaust yourself.”_ Aragorn had cradled his beautiful elf’s face in his hands, tenderly, before leaning in for a kiss. _“My men are wise men. They are skilled and know these paths.”_

_“Aye. And yet they are men.”_

The truth was, Legolas _was_ an experienced, skilled elf, having been fighting in battles ‘ere Aragorn had even been born. Legolas knew things that Aragorn did not, and heard and saw and experienced things that only an elf could. ‘twas simply the order of things. 

But there was a difference between offering wise counsel to another person and recklessly charging into danger without a plan after assuming an all-knowing attitude. And Aragorn told him so now.

“B-But—” And Legolas broke off to growl! Aragorn had to marvel at his stamina, considering how red his bottom was turning. “I-I knew I could! ‘m the Prince! An e-elf! Not a m-mortal! An e-e-experienced elf!” 

“I see. So you thought you knew better than I did, little one? Is that it?” 

Legolas howled at the volley of hard spanks that rained down. “NO! NOOO!” 

“Oh? I thought you just said so. Was I wrong?” Aragorn swatted down hard. 

“OWWWW! NOOO!”

“You are yelling, Sir. Remember, this is a civil conversation. Is it not, little prince?” The name felt rather befitting, given the situation. Aragorn watched as Legolas sputtered and nodded jerkily. “It isn’t?”

“It isss!” Legolas wailed, kicking. “Ar’gorn!”

“Aye, sweet elfling. I am listening.”

Legolas gasped and cried some more before stammering, “I-I _did_ think I k-knew more, Ar’gorn! W-Wanted to show you!”

Aragorn smiled down at him sadly, even while knowing that Legolas could not see him. “ _Meleth nîn,_ you do not have to prove anything to me.”

“I-I was n-n-not—”

“Aye, you were. You wanted to prove that you could do it, that you could take them all on by yourselves. Because if I saw you do so, then I would no longer argue when you demanded to go out on skirmishes by yourself. You would have proved to me that you are more than worthy of taking care of both yourself and our men. You would have proved to me that our good company does not need to put their lives in such danger when we have such a brave elfling on our side.”

“A-Aye.” Legolas groaned, clearly giving up any lingering temptation to hide his true intentions by now. A wise choice.

“Shhh. I know, little one. I know. But the truth is, Legolas, I still stand by my words. There is nothing you need to prove to me. Do you understand?”

“I-I…”

“Legolas.”

“OWWW! AYE! UNN’ERSTAND!”

“Mm. Good.” Feeling the need to say more, not just for Legolas but for himself, Aragorn added quietly, “You have proven your worth more than enough all these years that we have been travelling together, Legolas. E’en before we joined the Grey Company. Do you remember those times?”

Legolas nodded shakily.

“‘twas always you saving me,” Aragorn told him with a small, rueful smile. “It was the first time I was leaving home without my brothers, or any of the other noble elves who watched me grow. Do you remember how I argued with everything you told me to do?”

“A-Aye.” Legolas twisted to give him a small, tearful smile. “I-I had to sp-spank you, ‘cause our adas said _I_ was in charge for t-this journey.”

Aragorn winced. “Aye, you did not go easy on me at all,” he muttered, making Legolas laugh wetly. He patted Legolas’ bottom, making him hiss and arch a bit. Ah. And now he had regained the upper ground once more. “Did you think me any less worthy for my eagerness to show you how much I could—or rather, _thought_ I could achieve?”

“N-Noooo.”

“And would you have thought me any less worthy if I had listened to your orders like a good little boy, rather than rashly running into danger trying to prove myself?”

“Nooooo!”

“Well, then. I see no reason why it would be any different for you.” 

Legolas said no more, and Aragorn was satisfied, knowing that he had finally gotten Legolas to understand. For good measure, he added, “And you most certainly do _not_ need to put yourself in danger so you can save everyone else. ‘tis not your duty, Sir. Do you hear me? Your duty is to continue to be the worthy member of the Grey Company you are.”

“B-But I am—”

“An elf. And I am a man.” Aragorn rested his hand on Legolas’ red bottom. “We cannot change who we are. But just because I cannot walk atop of snow as you can, or hear a leaf fall a mile away, does not mean you love me any less. Love has no boundaries for the races of Middle Earth, little one. ‘Tis the same for all.”

Legolas went quiet again at those words, and Aragorn let him think, knowing that he needed that time to process them. “I understand, Estel,” he whispered, slipping into the Elvish tongue.

Aragorn smiled back. “I know you do,” he responded back, enjoying the way the words rolled off of his tongue like liquid honey. 

“A-Ar’gorn?”

“Aye, little one?”

“I was m-mean to ‘ben.”

“Were you indeed?” Aragorn held his gaze, watching the guilt swirl around in Legolas’ eyes. 

“U-Uh-huhh. I h-hurt his feelings. T-Twice. Or m-more. I do not k-know.” Legolas put his head back down into his arms, clearly feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “I-I was _bad.”_

“You were not bad.” Aragorn made sure to emphasize his point with a firm spank, making Legolas wail. “My elfling is never bad.”

“B-But—”

“You made a mistake, Legolas,” Aragorn swept on, not letting Legolas get a chance to continue his self-degradation. “Osben is wise enough to know that you did not truly mean any of the words you spoke to him.”

“B-But—”

“Osben played his part in this little mishap as well. He was not entirely innocent.”

“W-What?”

“He has been acting out for days now, little one.” Aragorn gentled his voice. Had his elfling truly not realized? “Trying to get Halbarad and Elion’s attention, no doubt. And he will soon get it, once his ankle heals.”

“B-But—”

“He kept silent when he knew he should have told Halbarad of your antics, when he saw you in the forest. He has already gotten a few swats for that. And now, Halbarad and Elion are itching to get their hands on him and will do so the moment it is safe to pull him over their laps. And afterwards, he shall apologize to you for antagonizing you that day with his remarks.”

“B-But—” Legolas broke off, sounding tearful as he quivered. “Ar’gorn—”

“Shhh. No more arguing, Sir. ‘tis how it is.” Aragorn gently rubbed his back. “And once we are done here, you, dear elfling, owe little Ozzy an apology as well. It shall ease both of your minds.” 

Legolas let out a small sob. “He—he won’t l-like you callin’ him that—OW!”

The audacity of his elfling! Aragorn had to swallow the laugh bubbling in his throat. “I only require your attention and good behaviour, Sir, not your sass,” he informed him sternly instead, swatting him again, quickly sobering as he reminded himself why Legolas was even over his lap in the first place. “You shall apologize.”

“OW! I-I will!” Legolas agreed with a hiccup. 

“He did not deserve to be treated so unjustly, did he not?”

“OWWWW!”

“Well?”

“N-No, Ar’gorn, he d-did not! Not! Sorry! Sorryyyy!”

“Ah. Good, little one. Very good.” Aragorn gently patted his bottom, making him flinch. “And you understand that this sort of behaviour is unacceptable and will ne’er be tolerated?”

“U-Uh-huhhhh! Unnerstand! S-Sorry, Ar’gorn! W-Won’t do it ‘gain! Unner’stood!”

Oh, no doubt he understood, considering how red his bottom was now. 

Aragorn smiled. “Goood. Very good, little one.We are done now.”

Legolas tensed, then went limp, weeping softly. “A-Ara—”

“Shhh. ‘tis alright.” Aragorn gently scooped him up, making sure his sore backside didn’t touch his legs, and wrapped his arms around his elfling, settling him comfortably into his lap. “You did so well, little one. I am very proud of you.”

This time, there were no objections, just a quiet, “T-Thank youuu.”

“You are most welcome.” Aragorn gently rocked back and forth, tenderly brushing Legolas’ hair out of his face. He couldn’t help but wince, knowing that his eyes would be feeling sore and swollen the next day. Even his Elvish blood couldn’t seem to give him an advantage for a post-spanking recovery. 

“Ar’gorn?”

“Aye, little one?”

“Y-You were not mad at me today.”

“Nay, Sir. I could never be mad at my sweet little elfling.”

“No matter what.” Legolas traced patterns onto Aragorn’s chest as he spoke, giving him a shy look. “‘s what you always say.”

“Indeed, my wise elfling.”

“‘m not an elfling.”

“Oh, you are.” Aragorn laughed when Legolas wrinkled his nose at that, chasing it away with a delicate kiss.

“Hmph.”

Aragorn silenced him with another kiss, a longer one, enjoying the tender little moment they were sharing.

“Ar’gorn?”

“Aye.”

“We should prob’ly head back. There might still be Orcs lyin’ around. Gotta get rid of them all, come u-up with a strategy.”

Aragorn stared at him in surprise, then laughed. 

Legolas smiled sweetly, and joined in, giggling as he pressed his face into Aragorn’s chest. 

When the sun began to set, they did indeed start to make their way back to camp. Aragorn grinned fondly when Legolas winced as he pulled up his leggings, hissing when they reached his bottom. “You could always go without,” he suggested innocently.

Legolas spluttered, flushing. “Estel!”

Aragorn shrugged. “Just a suggestion.”

Rolling his eyes with mock irritation, Legolas muttered, “Men.”

All was quiet in the night once more, no longer troubled with the darkness that the Orcs had brought with them. They arrived at camp with no fuss, though Legolas hesitantly wiped an arm over his eyes before entering, as though it would help cover up the redness that lingered. Not that there was any point in such action; the wise men of the Grey Company knew exactly what sort of acts transpired between several of their members.

Paenon, who had clearly been selected to take the first watch as night fell, murmured a greeting to them, smiling when he saw Legolas’ stiff walk. Still, he did not say anything, evidently not wanting to embarrass Legolas any further than he already was.

Legolas immediately headed off to Osben, and Aragorn made his way over to Halbarad and Elion, both of whom were sitting beside the now growing fire as the pot of broth boiled and bubbled atop it. 

Elion shot him a teasing look when his stomach growled and remarked, “I suppose it’s safe to assume you had quite the exercise out there, my lord. ‘tis no wonder you grow so hungry.”

Aragorn laughed. “You could say that,” he agreed. He turned to watch as Legolas approached Osben, who gripped his crutches so hard that his knuckles turned white. When Legolas finished speaking, no doubt in his usual eloquent Elvish manner, the young Ranger’s eyes welled up with tears and he dropped his crutches, lunging forward to squeeze Legolas in a tight hug. 

Halbarad, who was puffing his pipe, grunted and looked rather displeased at Osben’s carelessness with his injury, but did not say a word.

Instead, Legolas gently drew Osben back, said something that made him laugh sweetly, and picked up his crutches for him. They both headed towards the group of boulders they liked to perch on as they chattered the night away. With Legolas’ help, Osben got himself seated comfortably, and then teasingly patted the spot next to him. Looking sheepish, Legolas shook his head and threw Aragorn a rueful glance, making him grin even more.

Aye, his beloved Legolas might be suffering from a sore bottom, but any trace of the darkness that had haunted him for days were now gone. 

A little extra attention could go a long way indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andddd that's a wrap!! thank you to everyone who read and commented and left kudos; it meant a lot to me! as always, please feel free to leave a comment and come visit me on my [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/argolas-greenleaf)
> 
> keep an eye out for other pairings that i have in the works! some of these include glorfindel & aragorn, osben/halbarad/elion, more aragorn & legolas, and legolas & elladan & elrohir & aragorn! lots of fun stuff (and many more pairings, which if i listed all right now, it would go on forever!). let me know if you have any requests or ideas! xx


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